


Youthful Rebelllion

by AstronomerAlways



Category: Recess
Genre: Angst, Depression, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Middle School, Other, TJ is trying his best okay, There's so much sad, pray for this child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstronomerAlways/pseuds/AstronomerAlways
Summary: Life looked so simple through the lens of a child. But those eager smiles and bright eyes were wiped away and those lens were removed damn fast as reality descended on them. In other words, Middle School is a bitch. "How do people survive this place?"





	1. Chapter 1

Looking at himself in the mirror, TJ tried to restore some of the confidence that he lost the previous night as the fact that the first day of school was less than an hour away. Only a small amount came back as her fussed over his clothes that Becky picked out for him to try and cheer him up before hopping on a plane and leaving for college in Germany. 'Clothes make the person,' she said.

Weathered jeans, a light gray shirt with a white exclamation point, and white shoes. Nothing that could draw unwanted attention, but enough to look clean and his actual age instead of like a kid who's puberty was taking a vacation.

"Guess I can't hold it off any longer," he mumbled. He grabbed his book bag sitting next to his desk and held it over his shoulder. Sasha, who sat near his bed, came up to him. "I'll be back later, Sasha. Wish me luck?"

He chuckled to himself before heading downstairs with his skateboard in hand.

With as much anxiety as the first day of school was giving him, if his racing heartbeat and sweaty palms were anything to go by, he knew he couldn't skip the first day of all things. No, he needed to safe those mental health days for when he really need them. His parents, advised by Dr. Sage, allowed him five days throughout the school year to take off of school, no questions asked. He appreciated having that on hand, and had a feeling that he was going to need them.

"Hey!"

He stopped skating down the sidewalk and turned to see CJ riding up to him on her bike.

"Ready for school?" She asked, grinding her bike to a halt.

"As ready as I can be, I guess," he said as they headed to school together. "Which look are you going for with this outfit?"

"A sort of light, farm girl-ish sort of look," she said with a chuckle. "It's still a little too hot to be wearing darker colors yet."

He nodded, agreeing. She stuck with light colors, wearing a faded denim skirt with short leggings, a white lace shirt, and sandals. Cute.

"You look nice," he said.

"You too! So, are you nervous?" She asked. "You know, about seeing your old friends?"

"Yeah. . .I'm hoping that they just ignore me. I don't want it to be like at the candy store," said TJ. "I'd rather they ignore me than make a scene and everyone's looking."

"Right. Even if they do though, we'll take care of them. People are a lot less brave about bullying when their target is in a group."

"Thanks."

The rest of the way to school was in a comfortable silence. TJ wondered if Robert was anywhere as nervous as he was, though if that were the case, it would be for different reasons entirely. But in a way, it made him feel a bit better knowing that an older person he looked up to was nervous on the first day. But CJ was right; he wasn't marching in there alone, like he feared he would the first few weeks of summer vacation.

The middle school was much bigger than the elementary school. No playground of blacktop in sight, or teachers to help them around, the building looked more clean and 'official'. It was nice, TJ could admit that much, even if it was a bit daunting.

Menlo and Randall soon joined the two of them when they were in sight, and soon enough, they blended in with the other groups of friends that were gathered outside of school, something that TJ was thankful for.

Once the bell rang, they headed inside, counting down the locker numbers until they reached there's. Randall and Menlo split off from TJ and CJ on the first turn. While they searched for their locker, TJ almost wanted to keep an eye out for his old friends, if only to know when to stay out of sight. So far, nothing, though he did spot other students. Swinger girl ditched her pilot helmet, Sam and Dave no longer dressed identical, and guru kid was actually wearing a shirt now.

It was only worth a shrug in all honesty.

"Here's our lockers, dude!" CJ said. They stopped in the middle of the hallway where their lockers stood in a row with the others. They were all yellow with a black trip, and mid height, instead of the top and bottoms ones the elementary school had. "Right next to each other.

"Bigger than the ones they had at third street," TJ said. He and CJ started to turn the combination that came on the paper with their class schedule.

"Those small lockers could barely hold anything," she said. "You think they stuff kids in these?"

"I hope not," he said. "I mean, I know I could probably fit in here with room to spare, but still."

Opening their lockers, they found that it did indeed have more space than their last lockers. Two shelves, one at the top, and another at the bottom, with a large space in the middle. Around them, he could hear how others were planning on decorating and personalizing theirs. He probably wasn't going to go through with the hassle.

Sitting on the bottom shelf was a brown paper bag, with nothing more than a few pencils with the schools name printed on them, erasers, sticky notes, as a way to welcome the students for the new school year. A nice thought. Probably wouldn't touch it after today.

With his book bag not being too heavy to carry to class, they decided on carrying it with them to their classes. They'll be filled with textbooks soon enough.

"So this is where we split off, huh?" CJ asked. "We don't have any classes together until second period."

"Yeah, I guess so," said TJ.

He looked at his schedule. First things first, remedial English. Due to both his grades and newly discovered dyslexia. At least it would get out of the way first thing in the morning.

"I'll see you in an hour, then."

##

The idea of having to take a remedial class came with the sort of stigma of being stupid, and idiot who didn't know how to read. TJ didn't need the class to have any of that on his mind; reading at all was always a bit of struggle in terms of keeping up with everyone, especially as the material got harder. But he wouldn't be the only one in this class.

Still, he sat closer to the edge of the rows of desks, as if to keep himself out the main line of sight.

As the teacher came in and introduced herself, Mrs. Patiel, and handed out the reading list and telling them what to expect, the coursework already started to look like too much, but still, her overall pleasant attitude made it look a lot less threatening.

"If you look at the paper I handed out, you'll see we'll be reading books that are quite popular. I hope some of these grab your attention. It's a lot easier to read a book if you're interested in it," Mrs. Patiel said. "We're going to take a month to get through one book. At the beginning of each class, I'll ask a few questions about the reading you're going to do the night before, like a mini test. These add up, so it's important that you read whats assigned each night. Then we'll do some reading in class.

"You're also expected to write a report on any three books on this list by the end of the school year. You can do two before Christmas break, and one when you get back, three now to get it out the way, wait until after Christmas break to do any of them, it's up to you. But these are big parts off your grade."

#

"How'd it go?"

He and CJ ended finding each other, somehow, in the crowded halls on the way to their next class, History. One of the classes TJ wasn't too worried about. Oddly enough he didn't have much of an issue remembering dates and events, making him a bit of a history buff, something he was told was strange for those with dyslexia. But he wasn't about to question.

"It went better than what I expected. We got a reading list. First thing we're reading is Harry Potter," he said, holding up the book.

"That's awesome. You don't have to read boring stories out of a textbook," she said.

"Yeah, but that's the only good part about it," said TJ. "We've gotta do three really big reports."

"We have to do a bunch of small ones," she said. "I dunno which is worse. Constantly writing them, or having bigger ones spread out."

They turned into their history class. Most of the students had already arrived and were either sitting or standing around the desk they picked out. But all that didn't matter, because the two students that stuck out the most were Vince in Spinelli.

TJ knew that, aside from his remedial classes, there was a fair chance he would have a class with a few of them, he just hoped that somehow, he beat the odds. But already that idea was smacked right into the ground. At least they were on the other side of the room, and so far, it didn't look like they noticed him. As for him and CJ, the two of them took two seats on the opposite side towards the front of the class.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I'm as okay as I can be," he said. "I hope this class goes by fast."

#

The history teacher was alright enough. The textbooks were handed out, and most of the class was spent explaining what they were going to do starting tomorrow, and for the rest of the school year, probably the same as what all classes were doing. A paper here, a project there, nothing too unexpected.

He, along with other students, flipped through their textbook. He hopped this was as heavy as his textbooks would get. He didn't think he could carry more than one this size without his arms getting tired.

More reading tonight, though. Yay.

Speaking of which, he should probably tell his English teacher about his dyslexia. Better get it out there now before he falls behind in reading and him telling her then sounds like an excuse. Hell, he might have to read during lunch to keep up.

But it went by without much of an issue, and it probably couldn't have gone any better.

#

Science.

Specifically science. TJ was pretty sure that was just biology. They didn't have to dumb it down that much.

The class was a bit different in appearance. Long black tables that sat two people instead of the usual individual desks in every other class, along with other tables in the back for projects that the teacher was explaining they were going to do. It sounded interesting enough. More reading. Plus there wasn't any hesitation, they were jumping right into the textbook day one, along with a list of vocabulary she wanted them to learn by the end of the week for a test. No hesitation at all.

Oh, and Gretchen was there. Sitting in the front row center, where else would she sit? While he sat in the second row, it was closer to the edge. He was starting to accept that because of his height, sitting in front was going to be the case in all of his classes. Part of him was thankful for the teacher jumping right into things, it kept his head in his notebook and mind off the fact that he is not particularly lucky today.

#

Lunch was a long time coming. The food was only slightly better than in elementary school. At least they tried to give them pizza for the first day. He, CJ, Randall, and Menlo ended up at one of the tables in the back of the lunchroom, away from the more crowded tables in the middle.

"How have things been going for you all?" Menlo asked.

"There's so much work already. We're in middle school, not college, geez," CJ said. "Homework on the first day in all my classes so far."

"What happened to going easy the first couple of days," Randall mumbled.

"Guess it's their way of telling us we aren't in elementary school anymore," TJ said. "They're doing a good job of that, if that's the case."

As they talked, the strange glances they got by some of the students, specifically him, and by the looks of some of them going up to where his old friends were sitting, because of him not being with them in favor of the local snitch and teachers pet. It had to be something weird to see from the outside.

Joy.

Well, as long as none of them were coming up to him, he'd be fine with their curiosity.

German class. Finally, something that he was able to not worry about

Honestly, when he walked into the classroom he was a little happy that it would at least be a little easier for him than for most in the class. TJ knew how to speak German before he could speak English, mostly due to his grandparents being adamant they learn the language, being German immigrants and all.

Writing it, however, could use some improvement. Would it hurt to be a bit of a show off? When he came in, he saw that his unfortunate string of luck continued with Spinelli, Vince, and Gretchen also was taking this class. This time however, there was not doubt about them seeing him, as they turned away from his as soon as he was in sight.

This school wasn't small. It looked large from the outside, so why?

"Guten Morgen Klasse!" The teacher greeted a when the bell rang.

Everyone settled in the seats they chose. By the expression on everyone's face, they were thrown off with the teacher starting out first thing, speaking a language they didn't understand. Still, she continued.

"Wie geht es Ihnen heute?" She asked.

". . .good. . . ?" One of the braver students answered.

"Das ist grossartig! Mein name is Frau Addams. Wie heissen Sie? Warum nehmen Sie diese Klasse?"

When Ms. Addams gestured to one of the students in the front row, horror was written all over his face, while relief was written on the faces of those around him.

"It's alright, I'm going to help you through this," said Ms. Addams. "'Ich heisse. . ?"

"I-ich heisse. . .? John. . ?" He said tenitively.

"Good! Now, why are you taking this class: 'Ich bin in dieser Klasse, weil. . .?'"

"I-ich bin in dieser. . Klasse weil. . . .how do you say it sounded easy. . .?"

"Es klang einfach."

"Es klang einfach."

"Alright. At least you're honest. Now."

She went through the rest of the rows, most of the kids having memorized what the first kid has said so that it would be less awkward. Only one was brave enough to offer a different answer because no one wanted to be that kid who slowed down this awkward process. There was a small part of TJ that was amused that his old friends were having as much trouble as everyone else. He deserved some bit of happiness with them in the class. Anything to make it bearable.

"Ich heisse TJ," TJ introduced himself. "Ich nehme diese Klasse, weil ich Schwierigkeiten haben, auf Deutsche zu schreiben."

"Oh, so sprechen Sie schon Deutsch?"

"Ja, da war ich wenig."

"Das ist sehr interessant! Bis zum Ende des Jahres, weren Sie in deuscher Sprache zu schreiben sein."

"Ich hoffe es."

As she moved on the next student, there was a mixture of angry and confused eyes burning into his school. TJ hoped they weren't hoping for a curved grading system because that would just be terrible. For them.

He glanced over, just for a split second, and saw two of his ex-friends glaring at him, and the other buried in the textbook that were already on their desks before class started.

This class might actually be fun.

#

The math textbook ended up being heavier than the history book.

He reasoned that since it was all remedial it would be smaller since they were all catching up, but no. No, that was not the case.

#

Last class. The one extra class that the students get to pick for their own interests and enjoyment. TJ didn't remember exactly what he was thinking when he opted for creative writing at the end of the last school year. Maybe nothing else was interesting enough to take, so he just wrote it in because it seemed the least boring. Either way, it might be an okay class. Practice for writing his comic.

All he had to do was ignore Mikey and things would be great.

The teacher was too bubbly for his own good, but at least there were no textbooks. Most of the class was writing stories and swapping them around for critique. Easy. It might actually be an alright class. He had no idea what he

#

By the end of the week, TJ was counting down the days until Christmas break.

Not because of the classes; he's been keeping up with them fine enough with the help of his parents forcing him to get to his homework as soon as he got home from kickboxing, as well as a planner. It was all great in that area, though his parents were pressing for him to get some reading done on the weekend. The weekend. (Either he was staying up late or getting up early to get it done, he hasn't decided) It wasn't even the hour of kickboxing, though that was leaving him sore every night. It made up for not having gym anymore.

No, it was because of this guy.

"What's a fuckin' fourth grader doing here?"

He almost made it through the whole week without much of an issue. It was even the end of the day, and he was ready to go home, but no. Asking for that was too much. TJ closed his locker, his bag filled with the book he'll need and turned. A group of four boys with one standing a bit ahead of the other. Tall, heavier set, messy hair, missing at least one tooth. The stereotypical bully with his lackeys. A bit of a crowd formed around

"I'm not a fourth grader," he said. "I'm 12 years old."

"Don't look it."

"I'm just short for my age," he sighed. "Are you done? I have to get to kickboxing if you don't mind."

"HA! You couldn't even kick someone's knees!"

"That. . .that was just terrible. It's okay, though. It's only the first week. You'll come up with better insults on Monday, I'm sure," said TJ. "I'm leaving now."

As he and CJ walked away from the small group of bullies and growing curious crowd, they didn't notice the angry stares that were thrown their way.

#

"How was your first week of school, TJ?"

Sitting at his desk sketching away at another page of his comic, though he wasn't sure if it could be called that at this point, TJ kept the phone up against his shoulder as he talked to Dr. Sage over the phone, rather than in his office as usual.

"It was fine. Nothing special," TJ said. "Got a lot of reading to do."

"Are you going to get a head start on it this weekend?"

"That's the plan," he said. "I'll wait until tomorrow to start, though. I need a break"

Their conversation hovered around school, his classes, about how hard they seemed to be so far. TJ didn't pay much attention in answering. There wasn't much to report in his opinion, but having gotten used to these conversation, he wasn't going to end it shorter than their usual sessions.

When it did end, however, he decided to call it an early night, opting out of desert for a very long nights sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

To TJ's surprise, his former friends bothering him was the last thing on his mind when by the time the second week started. Whether it was the homework that took up most of his attention, or the initial fear not living up to what his mind worked it up to be, he wasn't going to question it. He was just going to leave his books in his lockers and go to lunch.

When he stepped into the lunch room, he saw that a crowd had gathered towards the front. He couldn't get a good look at them, but from the few glances he was able to get from the small gaps in the crowd, there were a few girls dressed in cheerleader uniforms, looking a little too happy and peppy than anyone should be at school.

"What's all that about?" He asked, joining the others at their usual table in the corner.

"Cheerleaders advertising the clubs and teams," said Randall.

"It would've been more efficient to announce it over the intercom," Menlo muttered. "They're going to let the students take a period off so they can go into the gym and football field to check out the clubs."

"I snatched a flier," CJ said. She handed the paper over to TJ, who looked it over. Typical sports teams, baseball, basketball, football, soccer, cheerleading, along with the book club, science club, matheletes, the band, and more that covered the back as well as the front.

"Tomorrow after lunch," TJ said. "At least we don't have class. Too bad it's my favorite one, though."

"Not a single thing on that flier interests me. Free time to be lazy for me," said CJ. "What about you guys?"

"The student newspaper looks interesting," said Menlo. "I can't help but feel that's my need for order speaking."

"I'm just gonna look around. I'm not gonna turn up a chance to get out of class," said Randall.

As students walked to their tables, they overheard bits and pieces of conversations between friends over which team they want to join. Mostly sports, some clubs. All sounding eager to tryout or join them.

#

"READY? OKAY!"

As everyone else's attention turned towards towards the peppy cheerleaders, TJ and CJ headed back inside to meet back up with Randall and Menlo. It was way too loud and crowded out on the football field for any of their liking, and there wasn't much to take note off. They already had their kickboxing outside of school.

"Our team isn't that big, being a middle school newspaper, but our job is very important! Someone has to get the news out there to the students. The must know the truth!" One of the members of the student newspaper said.

"We're looking for another reporter, and a photographer. If any of you think you're up to it, come to our room after school," said another member.

"So are you two news reporters now?" TJ asked.

"Maybe. I'm still not sure yet," said Menlo.

"I'm only interested in taking pictures," said Randall. "It's the closest thing to spying on people I've seen at this school so far."

"I'm surprised you haven't been snooping on people so far," said TJ.

"Nothing much to snoop on. Things were a lot more interesting in elementary with you and the others; I've gotta give you props for that," said Randall. "You guys kept things interesting, that's for damn sure. Everything here pales in comparison."

"Let's go see if the cooking club still has any more cake to give out," said CJ. "So we can actually get a piece while everyones outside."

"You're just in luck; we're bringing out another cake," said a student passing behind them. They turned and saw her walking back over to the cooking clubs booth where they were cutting into another cake.

Not ones to miss out on a free cake, they each took a slice. Before any of them could take a bite, CJ's slice was knocked her hand and onto the filthy gym floor, by none other than Austin, the same guy who thought short jokes were funny last week.

"OH he's so brave, knocking into a girl," said TJ. He handed her his own untouched piece. "You'd think he'd at least have some sort of integrity and go after a guy."

"You got something to say to me, Detweiler?" Austin asked, marching up to him.

Despite having more than a head over him, TJ didn't back down. Maybe if it was just about him, he would, maybe not. But what kind of bully goes after a girl?

"Yeah I do. What's your deal? I don't care what issue you have with me, but you're going to leave my friends alone!"

"And what if I don't? What are you going to about it, short stack?" Austin asked.

"Alright you two. Break it up," a teacher from across the gym called. The two of them stared each other down before Austin turned and continued on his way.

"What a jerk," said Randall. "It's like he has nothing better to do."

"I know. You okay, CJ?" Asked TJ.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I wanna know what that kids issue with you is," she said. "Whatever. We're gonna take this all out at kickboxing practice. I feel sorry with who we're going to spar with."

#

"You're looking at the schools newest news reporter and photographer!"

"Holy crap. Congrats, guys!"

Friday, probably the best day of the week that also involved going to school. Menlo and Randall announced their membership on the student newspaper first thing in the morning.

"Do you have something to report on, yet?" TJ asked.

"Yep, the football and cheerleading tryouts this weekend," said Menlo.

"Sounds boring. The tryouts, not you're being there and reporting," said CJ. "I'm sure you guys will make a great article and take great pictures."

As they walked to their lockers, TJ was barely able to keep himself from falling when Austin stuck his foot out to trip him in the halls. As much as he wanted to wipe that smug look off Austins ugly face, he's rather not have the attention of the crowd on him. That would have to wait for another time.

Besides, he has a number of tests to get through today.

#

Though between the massive amount of school work he was expected to get through was something always on the back of his mind, TJ wasn't one to turn own ice cream at Kelsos when offered, especially on a Friday night. What better way to let the stress of school melt off your shoulders than over an almost comically large milkshake with the ambiance of the semi empty neighborhood streets?

While Menlo and CJ couldn't join them, Menlo wanting to be as prepared as he could possibly be for reporting tomorrow morning at tryouts, and CJ wanted to soak in the tub after a particularly harsh kickboxing practice, TJ and Randall were more than willing to meet up at the ice cream bar with their respective cameras in hand.

"I'm sure the wide angle lens will work fine for a shot of the whole field, but I'm not if I'll need one for a close up of people trying out. A standard or short telephoto should be fine, but I don't want to carry both," Randall said.

"What's the difference?"

"Standard is just for everyday pictures. General pictures, ones everyone takes, you know," he said. "Short telephoto's are for portraits."

"Those are the ones that focus on things closer, and blur things behind them, right?"

"Right!"

"Maybe don't take close up pictures of people trying out. New teammates haven't been decided yet, so it would take more sense for a picture of them all on the field," said TJ.

"Yeah, you're right," said Randall. "That makes sense."

"Do they have those lenses for video cameras?"

"Yeah, for some of them. They're expensive though. It's too bad they haven't built them into the cameras yet. That'd be pretty awesome. You thinking about making movies after all?"

"I'm still mulling it over. It wouldn't be anything more than a something I'd do when I'm bored, if I do," said TJ. "Like when we're all out doing something. That and there's this abandoned building I sorta kinda wanna check out."

"The one on the edge of town?"

"Yeah that one."

"Me too. Never got around to it though."

"I always thought that someone lived there. It didn't look like it was abandoned, so I didn't think about it," said TJ.

"It's definitely abandoned. I looked through the windows once. I couldn't see much with all the dust built up on the glass, but there wasn't any furniture or anything," said Randall. "I did some more digging. It's been abandoned for years."

"It should be safe to break into, then."

"So you two are the best of friends now, huh?"

The two of them turned from their seats at the bar to the booth directly behind them. Butch, recognizable by his unforgettable streak off white hair, sat alone, sipping on a strawberry smoothie while doodling away in a small sketchbook.

"Best friends? No. but we get along well enough," said TJ. "That's all I need to be friends with someone. Turns out we have more in common than we thought."

"I thought I'd never see the day. Third Streets golden boy and the resident snitch hanging out like it's nothing," Butch said. he stood and brought his glass up to the counter. "First time for everything."

"I haven't been doing any snitching lately. Everything's boring compared to Third street. I have to admit, you can your old friends kept things interesting, that's for damn sure," said Randall.

"Whatever, Weems. If you decide to break into that building, let me know, yeah? I'm not one or breaking into places, but I wanna know what it looks like inside," said Butch. "Might give me something to draw."

"Yeah, sure no problem, Butch," said TJ.

"I'm gonna head out. Get home before the 'rents get upset."

"I think I'm gonna head out too. It's getting late, and I don't wanna get in trouble this early in the school year."

"Oh, TJ, before you go, I have something to give you," Mr. Kelso said. "You remember my friend Stan from a few weeks ago?"

"The guy who said he'd read my comic? Yeah, I remember him."

"He called me and wanted me to give you his address. He's really interesting in reading what happens next, and hopes that you'll send him a copy if you make another," said Mr. Kelso. He handed him a post-it note with an address written down on it.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, Mr. Kelso."

After pocketing the address, he headed out, he and Randall parted ways before he started towards home. He noticed other kids out with their own groups of friends. Though he had his own new group, it still reminded him of what he used to have. He tried taking his mind off it, thinking of what he still had to do with his comic.


	3. Chapter Three

Getting into a routine was supposed to make things easier, and in a way it did. Getting used to getting up in the morning, walking Sasha and delivering newspapers, school, kickboxing, homework, some work on his comic, and sleep had its own sense of security to it, and TJ appreciated that much. It was sort of boring, though.

Still, he'd rather have that over some bullshit.

The occasional cheer was heard other students read their names off the list posted on the bulletin board in the cafeteria. He was able to spot Vince out of the crowd, and by the looks of it he made it to the second part of the tryouts scheduled next weekends, big surprise there. On his way through the busy lunchroom, Austin felt the overwhelming need to shove him out his ever so important way. Rather than confront him and give him that attention he so desperately wants, TJ continued his way to his table.

"How'd the reporting go Saturday, guys?" TJ asked when he sat.

"Oh it went fantastically! I'm almost done with the article," said Menlo.

"I've got some good pictures. Wish I didn't have to climb the bleachers for a good shot, though," said Randall. "Have you decided on going to that abandoned place yet?"

"No, not yet. Give me like, 'til the end of the week," said TJ.

"What abandoned place?" asked CJ.

"That building on the edge of town. We're thinking about breaking in to see what it looks like. Me out of curiosity, Randall for the pictures. And Butch for the inspiration, I guess."

"Ew, count me out. That place must be coated in dust, mold, vermin, and God knows what else," said Menlo. "Just thinking about it makes me want to take a shower."

Their conversation was interrupted when the sound o crying was heard throughout the lunchroom. They, as well as many others, looked up and around for the source. They soon spotted Ashley T. running out of the lunchroom, sobbing, facing in her hands. The other Ashley's, still at their table in the middle of the lunchroom, made no movement to go after her.

"What do you think that was about?" asked CJ.

"No clue,' TJ said, turning back to his lunch.

"Should we go see what's wrong?"

"The old part of me wants to. But not right now," he said. "Anyways, we're having an exhibition match Friday night. You two coming?"

"Of course."

The rest of lunch went by normally, minus the obnoxious laughing of those sitting in the middle of the lunchroom. Didn't matter, though. As long as they let their little group alone, there didn't have to be an issue.

#

"How was school today?"

TJ poked at his food, occasionally taking a bite, more so out of the usual motions of eating dinner than any strong sense of hunger that was supposed to be there. Nothing was wrong with the food itself, it tasted fine.

"It was fine. Got my history test back today," he said. "I got an A."

"That's great, TJ! See, you can get good grades when you focus," his mother said.

"I've always been good in history though," he mumbled. "I got an A on my German test, too."

"Still. An A is an A, and we're proud of you," his father said.

"Thank you," he said. "Can I be excused? I'm not that hungry."

"Alright, but take a few more bites before you take your medicine."

TJ opted for finishing of what was left of the vegetables on his plate before taking his drink and politely leaving the table. He left the glass on his dresser after tossing back an antidepressant. After a hot shower, he settled at his desk, finishing the last bit of coloring of his comic. His backpack sat heavy next on his desk, untouched since he dropped it to the floor the moment he came home earlier.

As he worked on what he would only describe as a terrible attempt at shading, he wondered exactly how he was going to make copies of this thing. He had a printer, but ink and paper was expensive. Maybe he could get it copied somewhere else for a lot cheaper. He looked up at the sticky note with Stan's address written on it. Either way, he had to pick up some envelops and stamps, too. Probably should make a to-do list.

#

Whatever happened between Ashley T. and the other Ashley's didn't appear to be getting better the next morning. Though their lockers were right next to each other, TJ noted as they passed on the way to their own lockers that they were ignoring the green clad apparently former member of the group as they chatted eagerly amongst themselves.

"We should say something," said CJ during lunch.

They looked at Ashley T. who was sitting alone on the opposite side of the lunch room, poking at her lunch.

"We should. You should do it though," said TJ.

"Why me? You went to elementary school with her," she said.

"Yeah, but you're a girl, too. It'll be easier for her to open up to you."

"That's a reach. How about we both go?" she suggested. "I'm not against helping her but she doesn't know me. It'll be a little weird if some girl she doesn't know went over there."

"Alright, fine," he said. "C'mon."

While Menlo and Randall stayed behind and held down the table, TJ and CJ made their way through the lunchroom and over to the lonesome Ashley T. She poked at her extravagantly packed lunch that probably cost more than what was reasonable. Still, they weren't one to judge; just about anyone would take that over school lunch, and why not get the best that you could? Besides, it looked like the only good thing she had at the moment.

"Hey, uh, Ashley T.?"

She looked up from her expensive lunch as the two of them joined her at the table.

"What do you want?"

Though the question was supposed to be harsh and sting, the waver in her voice compromised that attempt. With her being the quietest of the Ashley's it was odd hearing her voice for longer than a second.

"I dunno what happened with you and the other Ashley's, and honestly I'm not interested, not to say it's not important you or anything, but you look really lonely over here," said TJ. "If you don't want to sit by yourself, you can come sit with us."

"Like I would ever sit with you losers," said Ashley T. "No thanks."

"C'mon, don't be like that. You aren't happy over here," said CJ. "At least you wouldn't be the only person sitting at a table by themselves."

"Better than sitting at a table with a bunch of social rejects," said Ashley T. "I'll survive, thanks."

"Well, we can't force you, but the offer is there," TJ said.

The two of them returned to their table.

#

The cheering of the relatively small crowd blurred into one singular loud sound, one cheer indistinguishable from another as the referee counted to ten. TJ, out of breath and what endurance he had waning thin and close to running on empty, stood, arms aching, glove covered hands throbbing, a slight ringing in his ears as a black eye began to form over his right eye.

How he was still standing, he didn't know, but wasn't going to question it.

"5!"

"6!"

"7!"

Maybe he had pent up anger from his former friends stabbing him in the back, or maybe all this training that Kevin put him and the rest of the team through was paying off, maybe he pushed harder because this guy had 5 inches on him, or maybe, he was just extremely lucky. He hoped he didn't hurt his opponent too badly. This was just an exhibition match, after all. But he didn't want him to get up before 10. If their match ended now, that would be great.

God, he was going to sleep so hard tonight.

He looked around. His team sat left of the ring, all, like him, donning the black and yellow uniform, 4, already have fought, bruised up and bandaged or getting bandaged, cheering him on. CJ sat, still haven't fought yet, cheering the hardest out of all of them. Ha. She really was something. In the crowd he was able to spot his parents rooting for him, though his mother was frightened that he was going to be worse for wear, whether or not he won this match. Menlo and Randall sat nearby, Randall with the camera his grandparents gave him, recording this match. It would come in handy for seeing what he did right and wrong.

"8!"

"9!"

"10!"

He smiled weakly when the bell rang and his arm was raised, showing him as the winner. He climbed out of the ring, met with the team nurse and rushed into a seat to get looked over.

"You did great, kid," Kevin said, patting his back.

The nurse looked into his eyes with a light, checking for signs of a concussions. He ended up with a bandage over his eye and being told to take it easy for the next few days. He watched as CJ stepped into the ring for her match.

They ended up winning that match. Too bad it didn't count for much. But it was a sweet way to end the week.


	4. Chapter 4

When Monday came around, TJ wasn't in too bad of a mood. He and CJ walked into school, smiling, talking about the exhibition match a few days before. Walking through the halls, curious eyes followed them, wondering what sort of hell they went through to get those black eyes, bruises, and bandages they sported. They wore them like a badge of honor.

"Geez, you two look worse than you did on Friday," said Randall.

"We kicked ass Friday night," CJ said, closing her locker with a little extra force than need. "I'm still hyped from that."

"Me too, but try not to bounce out of you chair in class," said TJ. "We're already beat up enough as it is."

"Here comes middle schools crème de la crème," Menlo said. He pointed down the hall with his pen, pausing in his note writing.

The schools newest members of the football team and cheerleading squad walked down the hall in their own group, wearing the team jersey and carrying pom-poms, respectively. They walked through the hall, emanating a sense of superiority and smugness only mentioned off in cheesy high school dramas on TV.

TJ spotted Austin in that crowd, as if he needed another reason to act like more of an ass than he already did, and well as Vince, no surprise. The Ashley A., B., and Q. were in the crowd of cheerleaders emitting their distinct smug laugh of theirs.

"Could you get any more cliché?" CJ asked.

"Only if they shoved a kid into a locker," said TJ.

That was swiftly demonstrated when a student that just so happen to commit the terrible crime of walking in their path was shoved into the closest open locker. Once the crowd passed, their friend managed to get them out.

"Extremely unnecessary," said Menlo. "It's just a show of power."

"They better get over themselves. They aren't impressing anyone," said CJ.

"Best case scenario, they get kicked off the team because of it," said TJ. "Wouldn't hold my breath, though. C'mon, we gotta get to class."

###

It seemed like the school's hierarchy was started to settle into place.

The sports teams settled in the middle of the lunch room amongst themselves, separating themselves from the rest of the students, putting up an untouchable bubble around themselves.

The edge of the lunchroom sat the so-called 'outcasts', the nerds sat at their own table, from what they could see from their table, doing their own thing, not bothering anyone. Still, some of the new jocks felt the need to mess with them on their way to their own table. Really, why? Just why?

Part of him wanted to stand up for them, as they obviously were too nervous and timid to do it for themselves, but what could he do against a whole team? He was getting messed with enough as it is.

"If we're all done paying attention to the popular kids, I finally got done with my next comic done," said TJ.

He pulled out a short stack his comic that he printed off and laid them on the able. The original sat home in a binder that he dug out of his closet, as well as the first one he made. He already mailed the mysterious Stan's copy last night, and it was on its way.

"Looks great, dude," said CJ. "Can't wait to read it. It feels thicker than the first one, is it? Or do I have a bad memory?"

"No, it's longer. I have the whole story written down, so now I feel like I can draw more each time," he said.

"E-excuse me."

They looked up and turned to the source of the voice. Ashley T. stood next to their table, gripping her lunchbox and avoiding eye contact with any of them. Though her clothes always focused around the color green, this time, it was no longer coordinated with the other Ashley's outfits, making her stand out. She wore a dark brown skirt, matching boots, with a pale green shirt, a lot less fancy than the Ashley's were known for.

"I-I'm sorry about what I said last week, it was really mean," said Ashley T. "Can I still sit here? People stare when you sit alone."

"Yeah, sure. Good ahead," TJ said. "There's plenty of room."

"They kicked me out," she said between sobs and wiping her eyes. "I didn't make it to the second part of the tryouts and they kicked me out."

"That's dumb," Randall mumbled. He hissed in pain when CJ kicked him under the table.

"I'm sorry that happened," said CJ.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry, I just feel like. . . being quiet. You can ignore me, if you want."

"Okay. Feel free to jump in, whenever."

They continued on with their conversation, occasionally glancing over at the sadden Ashley as she reached into her lunchbox and ate, sulking in her new position in the schools hierarchy.

#

"So, Ashley T. What are you into?" CJ asked.

She and the former Ashley walked through the halls, ready to get whatever they needed from their locker and head home, or anywhere that wasn't school. They crossed paths on their way out of class.

"Me and the others usually do each others make-up and go shopping together," said Ashley T.

"That's cool, but I'm asking about what you're into," said CJ.

"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything that you're into that the other Ashley's aren't?" she asked.

"Oh. Um, I don't know. I-I like animals, I guess," said Ashley T. "But we never did anything with animals. The others thought they smelled and were loud."

"Well, now you can do all that stuff," CJ said. "We're not gonna stop you."

"I like fashion, too! Not just shopping, but like, designing clothes and stuff. I've got a whole sketchbook filled with ideas. And I always wanted to try singing, but I'm too shy to. I'll probably sound horrible anyways," she said.

"You'd never know unless you try. Why not try all that stuff now?" Asked CJ. "Think of that like a silver lining in all this."

"What do you do?"

"Me? I kick box, and I have a newspaper route. TJ does, too. Randall and Menlo work on the school newspaper," said CJ. "Speaking of which, where are those three, anyway?"

When they turned around the corner, they saw Randall and Menlo struggling to open TJ's locker. Just as the two girls approached, they managed to get it open, and TJ tripped out, almost falling face first into the lockers on the opposite wall.

"Lemme guess, Austin?" CJ guessed.

"Who else?" TJ said, straightening his clothes. "If I didn't want to get suspended I'd punch him right in his smug face. Remind me to apologize ahead of time to whoever I'm paired up with to spar."

"Will do."

#

As daunting as the task of learning how to write in another language was, it was proving to be a lot less difficult than TJ thought it would be. Even considering that German had a ton of words that were longer than they had any right to be, he was catching on fast enough. Then again, having the advantage of being able to sort of sound out the phrases on the test in his head until he was able to figure out what it was made it lot easier, and vice versa for writing down the answer.

Plus that came in handy when it came to the extra credit section where they had to write a short paragraph. Three weeks in and he was going through the pages of the tests without much difficulty, if the hateful and frustrated eyes of the students sitting in the rows behind him burning into his head didn't count.

He understood their frustration, he really did. If he was the average grade student in a class with one kid who always murdered the curve grade, he'd be miffed, too. He just wasn't going to dumb himself down for them. (Though a part of him was doing it out of spite).

So, with this class being pretty much a guaranteed 'A', and having this test in the bag, why did his eyes sting and water, with tears threatening to fall? Whatever the reason, it didn't look like it was going to stop. Finishing the last bit of the test, he raised his hand, getting the teachers attention.

"Gibt es etwas, TJ?" The teacher asked.

"Ich brauche Luft. Kanna ich in das Buro des Schulleiters?" He asked, thankful that his voice wasn't reflecting the feeling growing in his chest. "Er wird es verstehen."

"Ist es ein Notfall?"

"Es ist fur mich. Kann ich gehen?" He asked.

The teacher gave him the hall pass and he handed in his test before grabbing his bag and stepping outside the classroom. Free from the prying eyes of his classmates, the tears fell down his cheeks. He wiped them away as they came, but they were only replaced swiftly after, along with a sob.

The last time something like this happened was during the summer. He remembered it; he called Robert, asking, almost begging him to meet him at the elementary school, tears streaming down his face, with no explanation to give as to why.

Just like now.

With Robert out of reach, he went to his only other option.

#

A loud banging at his office door pulled Principal Prickly out of his paperwork. Eager for a break from the pile of paper on his desk, he stood and answered the door, only to greated by his favorite student in tears.

"Detweiler? What—"

"Can I come in? Please?" TJ asked.

Prickly stepped aside, letting him in. TJ dropped his bag near the couch before laying on it himself.

"Is something wrong, Detweiler?" Prickly asked.

He kneeled down next to the couch. TJ turned over to face him, tears still coming down.

"Yes. No. I don't know," he said. "I started crying and I don't know why. I can't stop, either and I don't know. . .!"

"It's alright, it's alright. Would you like me to call your parents to come pick you up?" He asked.

TJ nodded. He curled in on himself as Prickly went back to his desk.

He must've fallen asleep sometime after, because he was woken up by someone gently shaking him and saying his name. Wiping the dried tears from his eyes he looked and saw that his mother had come to pick him up. Not long after getting up and stretching the sleep out of his muscles did his eye stung again with tears.

A few words were exchanged between his mother and Prickly, though he didn't have the energy to focus on exactly what they said. He grabbed his bag and followed his mother out of the office, thankful that class was session when they went through the halls.

"Do you want to talk about it, TJ?" his mother asked once they were in the car.

TJ shook his head and sunk into the seat in an attempt to make himself disappear.

Pathetic.

God, who starts crying in the middle of the class? Like a little kid. Over an hour later and he still can't make himself stop. He's 12, not 6. He should at least be able to make himself stop, but he can't even do that. What kind of middle schooler breaks down in the middle of class like some weirdo?

Pitiful.

"TJ, you know that you can tell me and your father anything, right?" His mother asked, no doubted due to the sniffling he was doing in a failed attempt to calm down.

"Yeah. I know, mom," said TJ, his voice wavering. "I'm fine."

His mother let him be, and he was thankful for that.

When they arrived home, he left his bag by the front door, petted Sasha as she came up to him, curious as to why her owner was home earlier than usual, then went to his room where he curled up on his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened to you, dude? You disappeared from school out of nowhere and we couldn't reach you all weekend."

Returning to school the following week, TJ felt as if he was more or less walking on an unstable ground with how drained he still was from his bout of crying. Though he had cried himself to sleep and when he finally woke up, it was over with, he was still left empty handed as to why it started in the first place.

"Sorry, I had an. . . episode," TJ said.

That was a nice way of putting it. All weekend he barely left his bed, except for feeding and taking Sasha out, he stayed put in his bed, much to the worry of his parents. They tried so many times to get him to tell them what was bothering him, but to his defense, he didn't have an answer to give them. Whether or not that in itself was worrisome, he didn't know.

"I'll tell you about it later," he said before the two of them went inside the school. "Still recovering."

It didn't take long at all for TJ and CJ to realize something was wrong.

Some students, when they didn't think they were looking, chuckled and pointed towards them, though it became clear soon enough that they weren't pointing at the both of them, just TJ. Still being numb from over the weekend made it easier to ignore them, especially since he didn't know most of them.

It was only when he finally reached and opened his locker did they get any explanation to what their problem was.

"Look. It's the crybaby," he heard Austin say from behind him, along with the chuckles of students who had too much time on their hands. Great.

"Is there something wrong, Austin?" TJ asked.

He stayed faced away from him, getting what he needed from his locker for his first three classes. The new book they were starting in remedial lit, his history book and homework, science workbook, all of it being stuffed into his bag, and not a sheet of paper out of place. Being neat took the hassle out of so much. Less he had to worry about. It almost made him feel smart.

"I dunno. You tell me. You're the one who went crying home like a baby. Even had mommy come and pick you up," Austin mocked, along with the added chuckles of those around him. "Sure you don't want to go back to elementary school, short stack?"

"Piss off, Austin! Why don't you go do something better with your time?" CJ told him.

"Oh, you can't even stick up for yourself? You gonna let your girlfriend fight your battles for you?" Austin taunted.

"Are you done?" TJ asked, slamming his locker door shut and facing the smug football player. "Don't you have a life or something? I don't even know you, what's your problem?"

"Better stop pickin' on him, Austin. Ya' might make him start cryin' again." One of Austins goons said, earning laughs.

"Whatever. C'mon, CJ. We gotta get to class," he said.

The two of them walked through the crowd, away from judgmental eyes.

#

"What was that all about this morning?"

By the time lunch rolled around, things didn't die down about what Austin said. How he managed to find out about what happened on Friday, TJ would like to know. Probably wa skipping class and saw him on his was to Prickly's office.

"Austin saw me on Friday when I left and spread it around," TJ said.

"Yeah, what did happen on Friday? You disappeared, and none of us could reach you all weekend," said CJ. "You said you had an 'episode'?"

"Yeah. I had one in the summer with Robert. I started, you know, crying, out of nowhere, for no reason. I couldn't make myself stop. I didn't happen again until Friday," He said. "It's over with now. Can we talk about something else?"

"Hey. Sorry I'm a little late," Ashley T. said as she came up to the table. "There were giving out fliers for a pep rally next week."

"There's something," CJ said.

"Can I see?" Menlo asked.

Ashley T. handed the flier over to them. Menlo straightened his glasses before reading down the sheet.

"Spirit week next week, ending with a pep rally on Friday," he read. "Monday is mismatch day, Tuesday is twin day, Wednesday is Pajama day, Thursday is formal day, and Friday is school colors day."

"It all sounds horrible," said Randall.

"The most exciting thing on that list is twin day," said TJ. "Are you two going to have to report this?"

"Probably. They're probably tell us after school," said Randall.

"Aw, I think these sound fun," said Ashley T.

"Then we hope you enjoy it to the fullest," said TJ. "We're just talking about us. If you enjoy all this then go ahead. We aren't going to stop you."

A small 'pap' sound interrupted their conversation and was followed by something small landing on TJ's lunch tray. He rubbed the back of his head before picking up the small pack of tissues.

Funny.

"Don't they have anything better to do?" TJ asked, tossing the tissues away. "Anyways, Randall, wanna finally go check out that abandoned house on Saturday?"

"Yeah, sure."

"While you two are out there getting covered in dust in the name of a few good pictures, me and Ashley T. are going to be getting pampered," said CJ. "I love you guys, but a girls gotta have girl friends."

"Nah, we get it. Have fun with that," said TJ. "We'll just be breaking into buildings and hoping no one reports us."

#

"Ugh, gross. . ."

Randall swiped off another piece of garbage off his clothes. He had enough practice climbing out of garbage bins, having been tossed in them more than a few times by various students while in elementary. This time it was by members of the football team, for trying to get a couple pictures for his assignment as a news photographer. They even tossed his backpack over a fence for good measure.

Somethings never change.

His jacket was stained and something slimy was seeping into the fabric. He didn't know if that could be cleaned, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. He has a few different lenses in his bag. He needed to check and see if they were broken.

"Is this your bag?"

Another kid met him when he reached an opening in the fence. Randall recognized him by his dark clothes and makeup to match. One of the goth kids (or was it one of the emo kids? He couldn't tell them apart, and the hung together often enough to get them confused) he recognized from the group that sat together at lunch and walk together through the halls.

"Yeah, that's mine," said Randall. "Thanks."

"Whatever," said the kid. "Name's Colten. Where'd you get that comic?"

"Did you go looking through me bag?"

"No, it fell out," said Colten. "So where'd you buy it?"

"I, uh, didn't. A friend of mine made it. He draws his own comics," said Randall.

"So if me and my friends want a copy we have to talk to him?" Colten asked. Randall nodded. "Fine. Lunch, tomorrow. I'll meet you outside the cafeteria."

"Uh, okay?"

With that, Colten turned and left, probably going back to his friends.

#

While putting a dent in the freshly cleaned, TJ wondered why he let it pile up until he had no choice but to do it unless he wanted to risk a mountain of dirty clothes to fall over and crush him at any given moment. Now he had no choice but to set up a line of getting them washed dried and folded. If he wanted to sleep in his bed he had to fold and put away the clean pile on his bed.

He paused when he heard his door creek open and the jingle of Sasha's collar. She stopped next to him, carrying her leash in her mouth.

"Is it time to take you out already?" He asked. "Alright. Thanks for keeping my on time, Sasha. 'ppreciate it."

He clipped on the leash and grabbed his jacket before heading downstairs. He peeked into the living room where his parents sat on the couch. He waved at them before stepping outside and going along their usual route.

The latest walks were the ones he enjoyed the most. He was too tired to enjoy the ones in the morning, and the walks after school were almost rushed so he could get back home and head right back out to kickboxing, but at night he could slow down and enjoy the silences of the empty streets and clear his head after a long day.

Sasha happily walked alongside him, paws 'pap-pap-papping' on the ground. Alone with his pup, the cool air, the calm atmosphere, and overall ambience of third street as the sun set help some of the daily stress roll off his shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing out here, short stack?"

At least that was the case until this exact moment. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Austin with his ever present band of lackeys, as well as a few others on the football team, along with Vince, which was a real surprise, but it was as much as a surprise as finding out you forgot your overdue homework at home. There was bit of semi-reassurance semi-satisfaction when he saw his former friend looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"It's getting late. Little kids like you should be in bed," said Austin.

"I'm walking my dog, do you mind?" He asked, though he didn't really care for his answer. He turned and continued on his way.

"A dog? That's a lot of responsibly for a little kid."

TJ felt the leash being snatched out of his hands, and Sasha yelped and staggered backwards from the force of it being pulled. Once the puppy was on stable footing, she growled and, rightfully so, starting biting and attacking Austin, specifically his left leg.

"Get your mutt off me!" Austin yelled, kicking his leg. Sasha held on.

"What the hell is your problem? I don't care if you pick on me, but now you're messing with animals now?"

TJ managed to pick up Sasha and slip the leash away from Austin. He checked her neck or any injured. Despite her yelping moments ago, there didn't look to be any injures or marks. She licked his face, as if sensing his worry.

"I'm not here to mess with your mutt, I'm much more interested in messing with you," Austin said.

Faster than he could looked up and brace himself, he was shoved into the wet and muddy ground of the vacant lot they all stood by. When he landed, his head hit something, hard, most likely a rock, though he hoped it was simply a spot where the ground was raised. He blinked, the world spun a bit from the impact. Sasha jumped out of his arm from the sudden movement, but stayed close, growling and barking at them in his defense, but they only laughed as he pushed himself up and out of the mud. Fists balled up in boiling rage, he walked through the mud back to the sidewalk, though the mud made the ground unstable, and he barely avoid slipping and falling back into mud again.

"Look, he's back for more," one of them said.

"And he's mad," Austin said mockingly.

When he was close to the sidewalk, he slipped, stumbling forward enough for Austin to grab the front collar in his shirt in a fist and pull him upward, only his toes touching the ground. But he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

"If I was short as shit I'd stay down when someone bigger pushed me. Just take that instead of something bigger. You must be fucking stupid," said Austin.

Dizzy and without any footing, there wasn't much TJ could do that would do anything significant, not even a punch would do much in his position. All he could do was brace himself when Austin's fist impacted his face, and he was sent to the ground again, hitting what definitely had to be a rock. This time, he felt something split along his hairline before blacking out.

#

Coming to, the first thing TJ registered was Sasha standing right next to him, whimpering. Though it sounded distant at first, it became clearer as the seconds ticked by. Already covered in mud, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He touched his throbbing head, the pain no doubtedly from landing on that rock. The slightest touch made him wince. Bringing his hand back down, he saw a bit of blood. Just great. He needed to get home. His mom was a nurse and there was enough in their first aid kit to do a surgery.

But he noticed that his head was missing his cap. Standing on wobbly feet, he looked around for it. He spotted a piece of red fabric sticking out of the mud a short distance away. He plucked it out, ready to go home, but it was simply a single piece of his cap, one section. The other parts were probably scattered all around.

He let out a strained sigh.

He started looking around for the other pieces. It wasn't lie he was going to leave the res out here. The cap meant more to him than that. On his knee in the deep mud, he sifted through, waiting for something other than the slimy ground to brush across his fingers.

"Come here, Sasha," he said.

The puppy came over, her leash dragging in the mud as she went.

"You think you can help me find the rest of this, Sasha?" He asked, holding up the one piece of his cap he had. Sasha sniffed it for a moment before going off in search, and he resumed his.

He must look pathetic. Some kid sitting the mud, soaked in it, looking for who knows god what with his puppy. Sasha came back over with the bill of his cap, and left it before continuing her search.

Pathetic

Disgusting

"Here."

TJ blinked and looked up. Vince stood a few steps away on the sidewalk, holding out a piece of his cap to him, but avoiding eye contact. Whether in disgust at his current position or some semblance of shame for having been part of the group that caused it, TJ didn't care. He wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and pretend for just a few hours that his grandfather's cap wasn't ruined. He snatched it out of his hands as Sasha came back over with another piece. As best as he could he tried to place the pieces together. It looked like that was all the parts to it, and he stood back on his feet and reached the sidewalk.

". . .Are you gonna to be okay?"

With the pieces of his cap in one hand and Sasha's leash in the other, he started back home, ignoring the question.

#

Upon sight of their mud coated son, his parents prodded him for answers, until his mother spotted the gash on his scalp as well as the dried blood that had trailed down his face. He was taken to the hospital for stitches that started an inch or so on his scalp and ending a bit past his hairline. Definitely going to scar when it healed.

He was thankful that his parents didn't ask questions for the rest of the night. He was tired, and wasted no time getting clean and hopping into bed.

#

Walking into school the next day, TJ kept his gaze downwards, though he couldn't tell if it was because he was tired, or not in the mood to deal with any hassle or conflict. Without his cap, his stitch was exposed for all to see. It didn't help in the slightest that they had to cut his hair to properly stitch the wound together.

"Jesus Christ, he goes out of his way to mess with you," said CJ.

"Probably," said TJ. "I'm just as pissed as you guys but I'm too tired to show it. I got to bed late. I might have to skip practice."

"There's no way Kevin is gonna let you practice with those stitches in your head. Someone might land a hit and then there's blood everywhere," she said. "But! You might be able to get that jerk Austin kicked off the team if you tell what he did."

"Not likely. That incident happened off school grounds. The school has no authority over what happens between students once they leave school grounds," Menlo explained. "If it had happened during school, then you could get him in trouble, but not in this case."

"Wait, you said you were in kickboxing right?" Ashley T. asked. "Couldn't you beat him up?"

At that question, TJ sighed, and slouched in his seat, looking away.

"I don't like fighting," he mumbled. "Fighting in kickboxing is one thing, but outside of that, I'm not a brawler. I was going to fight back but. . . . I chickened out. Sorry. I'm just a coward, I guess."

"Don't apologize, dude. You're not a coward. I think it actually takes a lot of courage to walk away from a fight," said CJ. She glared in the direction of the table Austin sat. "But it is cowardly to pick on someone smaller than you."

"Thanks, CJ," said TJ. "Where's Randall?"

Almost on que, Randall came up to the table, followed by another kid they didn't know.

"Hey, TJ. Someone wants to talk to ya," said Randall. He gestured towards Colten. "About your comic."

"Um, okay?" TJ ate the last of his pizza before standing and walking over to another table where similar dressing kids sat. "What'd you want to talk to me about?"

"Names Colten. Saw that comic you made," he said.

"How?"

"It was in Weem's bag. Posers tossed it over a fence near where me and my ring hang out." Said Colten. "It fell out and we read it. "It's a lot better then all the other comics about do-gooder heroes with typical powers saving their typical fans."

"Oh, uh, thanks," said TJ.

"Are you making another?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm working on it."

"So how much?"

"How much?"

"Yeah, how much is a copy? We wanna know what happens next. There's not a lot of comics for goth kids that aren't trying way too hard to be edgy," said a girl at the table. "M'names Emily, by the way."

"Wow, I never thought about a price or anything. I usually just give copies to my friends for free," said TJ.

"If you don't want to charge us anything, then we'll be your friends," said another guy at the table. "The more goth kids in this dystopian see of preps and posers the better."

"I'm not goth."

"Really?"

"No. Why would you think I am?" TJ asked.

"Your clothes. You're always dressed in dark colors. And you're attitude," said Colten. "You always look like you're detached from everyone here except your friends."

"Oh."

"But you said you're not so it's whatever. Look, we'll each take a copy of the next comic. We'll work out a price, then, how does that sound?" Colten asked.

"Yeah that sounds fine," he said. "I'll see you guys around I guess."

"We always sit here and hang out behind the football field after school. If you ever need to find us. Or whatever," said Emily.

"What was that all about?" CJ asked when he returned to the table.

"I got more fans of my comic, apparently," he said. "Paying fans, too"

#

TJ stood in front of his mirror, looking at the stitch on his scalp and forehead. It still stung and swollen a bit, sticking out like a sore thumb. Without a hat to cover it up, he felt exposed whenever outside or at school. He hoped it wasn't going to scar. Sighing, he sat back on his bed.

The piece of his hat sat on his desk, still coated in mud. He didn't have it in him to throw it out; part him hoped it could be repaired and sown back together, though he wouldn't wear it in fear of it being destroyed. But he didn't know how to sow. Maybe his mom could show him, she's been worried since he came home covered in mud and a gash on his head.

But that could wait until the weekend, like a lot of things.


	6. Chapter 6

"You know, I've always wanted to teach you and your sister how to do things like this."

TJ watched and listened to his mother as she demonstrated how to sow. A notepad sat in on the table with the instructions on threading a needle and such. He and his mother sat at the kitchen table, while she repaired a tear in his jacket he got from the incident with Austin earlier in the week. It reminded him the stitches on the top of his head. The swelling had gone down at this point, and now he was just waiting until he could go in and get them removed.

"Things like this always come in handy when you least expect it," his mother said "Is there any reason you suddenly wanted to learn this, sweetheart?"

"No, not really. Can't a kid just wanna spend time with his mom?" He asked.

"Of course; now that you're getting older, I really appreciate what time we spend together," his mother said. "But I have a feeling that there's another reason. Is there?"

TJ leaned back in his seat and slouched, a habit he and his parents noticed he was picking up whenever he felt uncomfortable in a conversation. He still hadn't told them anything about what happened that evening, and although he knew they would bring it up sooner or later, he hoped that they would forget it. It was hard to ignore your kid going out to walk their dog and coming home with their head split open, though.

"My hat. It got torn apart," he said. "I wanna learn how to sew so I can put it back together."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened this week?" his mother asked. He nodded. "TJ, what exactly happened that night?"

". . .It was nothing," he mumbled. "I just fell in some mud."

"Well, I'd believe that if both you and Sasha weren't coated in it," she said. "You know you can come to me and your father with anything, right?"

"Yeah, I know, mom."

"Then will you please be honest and tell me what happened?"

TJ nodded. He was never good at lying to his mother.

"It was just some kids from school," he said. "They yanked Sasha's leash and she yelped so I picked her up and snatched the leash from them. Then they pushed me in the mud and I hit my head on a rock and passed out for a few minutes. When I woke up I saw they ripped my hat apart and my head hurt. I found the pieces, got Sasha and came home."

"Have these kids been bullying you?" She asked. He nodded, sinking further into his seat. "How long has this been going on? You should've told us sooner, we could've talked to the principal and have something done about it—"

"NO! No kids wants there mom to come in and fight their battles for them!" He said. ". . .I'm sorry for yelling, mom. It's just. . .that's embarrassing. They'll just pick on me more. I can handle this, okay?"

"Alright. But I don't want you to come how with another injury like that," his mother said. "We're just worried, sweetheart."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Do you think you can show me the pieces to your hat? I might be able to fix it."

TJ brought the pieces to her. He had washed them a few days ago and set them aside to air dry. His mother looked over the pieces and where they were torn.

"Well, they certainly did a number on this," his mother said. "But I don't think it's anything that can't be put back together."

"Really?"

"Yes. It looks like it was just pulled apart from the seams," she said. "This hat is quite old, so the seam and thread were thin and worn out, so when it's pulled, that's the first place it would tear. That means it'll be a lot easier to repair than if the fabric ripped. Just give me a few days to get a thread that matches the color, and it'll be good as new."

#

As Ashley T. lead the way through her mansion, CJ could see why she and the other Ashley's came to hold their high status position in school. Money. As convenient as having as much money to do and buy whatever they wanted, it still left them vein, valuing their social status over their friendship with Ashley T. Anyone who did that wasn't worthy of being as popular as they were. She wondered if any of the remaining three thought about how disposable they were after one of them were so easily dropped.

"And this is my room," Ashley T. announced.

She opened a door, and they stepped inside. The lights turned on automatically, showing off a large room that most girls could only dream of. The walls were painted a laurel green, and was complemented with dark brown dressers and bed frame. The whole room was carefully coordinated so not a thing looked out of place or like it didn't match.

"Cool room," said CJ.

"This is what I really want to show you!"

Ashley T. took her hand and led her to an attached room. When the lights switched on, it showed a room completely dedicated to making clothes. Various fabrics lined one wall, a large table set for measuring and cutting fabric sat in the middle of the room, and mannequins, both unused and clothes lined another wall.

"Wow, you weren't lying when you said you were into this stuff," CJ said, looking at the clothes. "Do you ever wear any of this stuff?"

"No. We only wore name brand clothes. Anyone could tell just by looking that this stuff is handmade."

"I couldn't tell the difference. And so what if it is? This stuff looks great," said CJ. "Just think, no one will be able to get their hands on this stuff in the stores. It's 100 percent original and made just for you. One of a kind."

". . .It doesn't sound too bad when you word it like that," said Ashley T. "A-anyways, we're here too paint our nails. C'mon, I have literally every color!"

#

Bang

Bang.

BANG.

The back door to the abandoned house burst open after the third kick TJ gave it. How the lock wasn't degraded at this point was a wonder It kicked up dust that must've been settled for a few years. Randall and Butch stood close behind him, ready to look inside.

"C'mon. I didn't kick down this door for nothing," said TJ. "Let's look around."

Randall handed him back his camera as they stepped inside.

Though there was a thick layer of dust on every surface, the first room they entered didn't look too bad in shape at all. The wallpaper was dulled and peeling, what furniture was left behind was falling apart, but it didn't look like something that couldn't be repaired.

The only sound coming from the abandoned building was from the few shutters that remained hitting the building as the wind blew, and the shutter of Randalls camera. With his own video camera in his hand, he walked through the halls and into rooms to explore.

As empty and worn down as the place was, there was this odd sense of calm and wonder that came with it for TJ. The fact that someone, probably a family judging by the multiple remains of bed frames he found in a few of the rooms, used to live here, eat, sleep, play here, made him wonder what they were doing now, or if they ever think about this place anymore.

He made sure his camera caught various perspectives of the rooms her looked into. This place would make a great setting at some point in his comic. So far he was using the middle school as the main setting, but now he wanted to branch out, and what better place for a characters whose superpower was based around death than an abandoned building? Besides, like, hell itself?

Was he going to make a habit of breaking into abandoned placed just to look around now? Probably, if other places look as interesting as this.

It was nice how quiet things were here. He found himself appreciating times when he wasn't being bombarded with noise. Peace and quiet. That's what it took to clear his mind nowadays.

"So," Butch said, coming into the room he was looking around. Probably an extra room used just for painting, based on what was left behind. "What happened with your friends?"

"My friends?"

"Yeah, you know, the ones you used to hang out with? Kinda hard to not notice the tension with you six," said Butch. "Mind telling me what the hell happened?"

"I do mind, matter of fact. I'd rather not talk about it. I don't even want to think about it," said TJ. "If they wanted to drop me then they could've at least told me to my face instead of laughing behind my back like a bunch of cowards."

"Yikes."

"Yeah, yikes."

"Hey! Hey, come in here!" They heard Randall call from deeper in the house.

They found him when he stepped out from behind a tall pair of doors.

"There's a ballroom in here. It's a mess just like the rest of the house, but it looks amazing," said Randall. "I got some really good shots."

They followed him through the overly large doors. Like he said, on the other side was a large ballroom. The marble floors were cracked with grass and weeds sprouting out of them, the windows were yellowed and threatening to further fall out of their frames at the slightest wind, and the only sign that wallpaper was ever there were the rare thin strips still lefts on the wall. But the light filtering in through the broken parts of the window made it look not half bad.

Butch opened his sketchbook, Randall continued taking pictures, and TJ looked around with his video camera.

#

"Ashley T., do you mind me asking you a question?"

CJ and Ashley T. ended up sitting on the floor, shoes and socks off with bottles of various nail polish of a rainbow of colors sat on the floor around them as they painted their nails.

"What is it?" Ashley T. asked.

"Is there something else you want to be called? I know that that's your first name, but doesn't it remind you of the other Ashley's?"

Ashley T. paused before picking up a bottle of clear polish.

"I thought about it. It does bother me, but I don't know what else to call myself. I like my first name," said Ashley T.

"How about just Ashley? All the others need their last initial to tell each other apart. You not using one still sets you apart from the others, and you're the only person with that name in our group, so we know who we're talking about," CJ suggested. "It's just a suggestion. It's up to you to decide what we call you."

"Excuse me, miss?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a maid.

"There's a young man here claiming to be a friend of yours," she said.

"That must be Menlo," said Ashley T. "Let him in, please, Maria."

Maria bowed and stepped aside. Like they suspected, it was Menlo that showed up on Ashley's doorstep.

"Hey, Menlo. What's up?" CJ asked.

"I was bored. . .TJ and Randall are off in that abandoned building. I didn't go because I didn't want to get dirty," said Menlo. "C-can I join you two?"

"Sure. Pick a spot," said Ashley. "We're doing our nails."

#

It took a bit of hunting down to find them. They weren't behind the football field, though he somewhat expected that; it was Sunday. He had no idea where goth kids would hang out around, so all he had to go off of were stereotypes, something TJ didn't like to do at all. Two hours into his search, he wanted to give up. He ended up at the park, sitting at a picnic table debating whether or not to call it a day.

He heard a whistle, and ignored it, assuming that it was from one of the smaller kids playing around. When it happened again, he looked around. He spotted Colten and the other goth kids gathered closer to the woods. Colten gestured for him to come over.

"I've been looking for you," said TJ. "I was about to give up."

"Should've told you where we are on the weekends. Our bad," Colten said. He took a puff from his cigarette and let the smoke billow out from his mouth. He held out a half empty pack of cigarettes. "Want one?"

"No thanks."

"'Kay. What'd you want?"

"I dunno. Just to hang out I guess. I'd hang out with my friends but they're all busy," he said. "I don't feel like staying home and being alone with my thoughts."

"We were just about to go to a music store at the mall. You can come, if you want," said Emily. "It's Sunday, we're bored."

"That's fine; I'm not picky or anything," he said.

"Fan-freakin'-tasic. You remember me, names Emily," Emily said. "And this is Zoe, Zach, and Owen."

She gestured to the other three members of their group; a pair of twins, one boy and one girl, dressed somewhat formally in black pants and skirt, respectively, and a white button-up shirts, and another boy, who looked like he's been dragged to hell and back, with clothes to match.

As somewhat off putting their appearance was, they didn't feel nearly as threatening as he heard the others students whisper and laugh under their breaths. Honestly, kids could be so cruel for no reason at all; he was no stranger to that at this point.

They ended up at the mall's music store after a bit of a walk. The last time he had been there was over the summer with Robert, looking for anything to do during the long summer days when he still didn't have any money to spend. Now with a wallet full of hard earned money from his paper route, he had something to burn, why now actually buy something? He walked through the aisles, looking at the many CD's lined up, with no particular band or genre in mind. Where exactly was he supposed to begin? He never paid that much attention to specific bands to begin with.

"So what do you listen to?"

He jumped when Owen suddenly appeared at his side. TJ wondered if he was always as tired as he looked, and if those headphones were only there to keep him up.

"I don't have a favorite band or anything," he said. "Never paid too much attention to that sort of thing."

". . .Here." Owen handed him a CD. "That's the Gorillaz. I don't listen to them, but you look like you would like them. Try out their Demon Days album first and see if you like it."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Uh-huh. Take this one, too. That's Daft Punk. I do listen to them. Their Homework and Discovery albums seem like your type."

"Not that I don't appreciate it or anything, but why are you being nice to me?" He asked. "You al barely know me."

Owen shrugged.

"You seemed nice enough. A lot better than those posers who mess with you. They do this?" Owen tapped the edge of his hairline.

"Yeah. It was a huge gash, too. Bled a lot. . ."

"Figured," he said. "We're not as picky about who we hang out with as everyone thinks. If you're nice, that's good enough. We'd invite your other friends if they were with you. Anyways, enjoy the CD's. Keep an eye out for Breaking Benjamin, you might like them, too. We're all further in the back."

TJ looked at the CD"s that were handed to him. Well. Might as well see if any of these are good.

He ended up with more CD's than he ever thought he would want.

A few order of fries and a milkshake later, and they were leaving the mall. TJ felt a bit awkward having nothing to contribute to the conversation being had with the others, but they haven't told him to scram yet, so he stayed. Colten was also quiet, however, so that made it a little less uncomfortable.

As soon as they were far enough from the mall. Colten took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"Why do you smoke?" TJ asked.

"Calms my nerves," said Colten. "Medication only does so much. They're a bitch to get though. Sure you don't want one?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"HEY FREAKS!"

Colten didn't get a chance to get take a second puff before his cigarette was extinguished by the splash of soda when a cup was thrown at them. It was accompanied with hearty laughter. It didn't take longer than a few seconds for them to see the popular kids, mostly made up of sport team members and cheerleaders.

"Piss off you braindead preps!" Colten shouted.

"Go crawl back under the rock you came out of, ya freaks!" One of them shouted. "Nobody wants you here!"

Seeing them all together, TJ was able to recognize a few more of them. He even saw Spinelli with the cheerleaders, or specifically, the remaining Ashleys, looking more feminine that anyone had ever seen her. How easily they replaced Ashley T., poor girl. Maybe he can convince the others to participate in spirit week together to make her feel like one of their group.

He swore he made eye contact with them for a moment. He wondered, just for a moment, if they were wondering what he was doing with the goth kids.

He was pulled towards the woods as they took an alternate path away from the mall. Colten tapped the side of his arm with the small box of cigarettes, another one already between his lips.

TJ took one.


	7. Chapter 7

When Monday came, most middle school aged kids left their house dressing as if they were either a. colorblind, b. had no social training, c. were extremely brave, or d. all of the above. It was only them doing it collectively that any of them were bold enough to step out into the public with mismatched clothes.

"We look all look hideous and I love it."

It took 10 minutes of phone calls but TJ managed to get CJ, Randall, and Menlo on board with the whole spirit week thing, though it was more for making Ashley T. feel welcome in their group than anything else; they didn't care much for the 'school spirit' aspect of it.

"I never thought I'd see an Ashley dress terribly on purpose," Menlo commented.

"It's all in good fun," Ashley said. "You guys look great, too."

#

"Today, we're going to start on project."

Every class looked lie calico of ugliness. TJ felt bad for all the teachers that had to pay witness to this catastrophe. He was sure he had to blink twice as much just to spare his eyes from how much color assaulted his and everyone else's eyes. On days like these, he appreciated sitting at the front of the class, most of the mismatching students behind him.

"This class isn't just about learning the German language, but indulging in the culture and history of Germany," said the teacher. "For this project, you will all be broken up into groups and pick a topic to make a presentation to present to the class. You can choose anything, historic events, specific places, certain people, anything you can think of.

"They key is to make your projects stand out. Today, you all will be breaking into those groups and figuring out what you want to do for your projects. You can look through your textbook, or the books in the back of the class for ideas. This project is due in three weeks, so you have plenty of time to work on it."

The kids started talking among each other, ready to group up with their friends. Without any in this class, he expected to just go into whichever group had room for him.

"Hold on! I never said you all could pick your own groups," said the teachers. This earn groans from around the room. "I'm picking the groups for you. You'll be working in groups of four. Now lets see. . ."

As she listed names for those who had to worked together, TJ hoped that he didn't get grouped to work with any of three certain people. One he could cope with, two, he would power through for the sake of the assignment. All three of them, and, well, he already had an A in the class, he supposed he could take a hit and go down to a B or B-. C at the most, if he felt like being that petty.

". . .And Ashley, Vince, TJ, and Gretchen, you four will be group E," said the teacher. "Now I want you all to get in your groups and come up with a topic together. Be careful what you pick; you want yours to stick out. I expect you all to have a topic by the end of class."

Well. A 'C' wasn't too bad. It might earn him a lecture from his parents, but he'll live and get his grade back up.

As soon as the four of them got together, the air was thick with tension. While the others groups were talking, they stayed silent, though it was clear it was from some hostility.

"So nobody is going to say anything?" Spinelli asked. Even with her change in appearance she was still as forward as she was before. "C'mon, what are we doing this dumb project on?"

"For the best chance at the ideal grade, our project should focus on a prominent figure in German history," said Gretchen. "I suggest doing our project on Albert Einstein."

"Great. Now what do we do?" Vince asked. "I gotta get my grade up."

"That's. . .not a good idea," TJ said. "That's not a good idea, at all."

They turned to him, looking mad, bothered, and was that disgust? He was sure that was disgust.

"And why not?" The tone of her voice gave away that she was barely holding back being snappy and was ready to try and shut down anything he was going to say.

Bringing back memories he's rather not have.

"That's like doing a history project on presidents and picking George Washington, or Abe Lincoln. It's too obvious of a choice, and there's at least five other students doing the same thing," he said. "We need to stand out, remember?"

"So we pick the greatest scientist to ever come out of Germany," she said. "What is the problem?"

"The problem is that you're probably not the only one here who's thought of that," said TJ.

"Oh my God, it's not that serious," said Spinelli. "It's just a dumb project, why do you have to make a big deal about it?"

"Ms. Addams, can we do our project on Einstein?" Another student asked from the back of the class.

"Alright. Group C's project is on Albert Einstein," Ms. Addams said. She wrote down the groups choice on the board. "For the rest of you, keep this in mind when picking your projects."

"You just love being right don't you?" Gretchen snapped. "What great ideas could you have?"

"Gee, you act like I hit with a car or something," he said. "I dunno, Food?"

"Food," Vince said flatly.

"Yeah, food. Specifically desserts. We're heavy on desserts like you wouldn't believe," he said. "Plus we could bake something and bring it to class. Easy bonus points."

". . .I just want to know how you called a project on Einstein predictable, and then suggest something as mundane as food," said Gretchen.

"Desserts."

"Food, desserts, it doesn't matter. It's an idiotic idea and I'm not risking my grade and GPA over food, of all things!"

"Did you say food? That sounds interesting," Ms. Addams said as she walked by the groups. "Is that what you all are doing your project on?"

"Oh, yes, Ms. Addams. We think it would make a great project and stand out from the class," said G, doing a complete turn around.

"Great idea! I'll write that down," said Ms. Addams. She turned and returned the board that the front of the class to write it on the board.

"Wooooow." Was all TJ said.

"So are we meeting at the library or one of our houses to do this?" Vince asked.

"The library. It'll be easier to get the research done there and keep our minds on it," said Gretchen. "We'll brainstorm tonight and come together with what we have after school tomorrow."

#

A small stack of papers was set in front of TJ as he counted down how many minutes were left in his last class. He glanced down, a short story that they were assigned to write, then turn in for the teacher to mix and hand out randomly so they could be given a healthy dose of constructive criticism by a random student in class. What exactly did he write? He forgot.

Flipping through the pages, and ignoring the mark ups of whoever was given this, it jogged his memory. A short story, basically the script to his comic, an issue that he hadn't reached to start drawing. It was easy enough and didn't take a lot of time and effort. Hmm.

The teacher gave them the rest of class to look over the suggestions and think about who they were going to take the advice to improve their piece. TJ started flipping through the pages.

There was some stuff about the pacing of the story being too fast, there was some notes about Xen, the main character, being portrayed as the 'victim' too much, something about 'voice', and some junk about spelling. Nothing that he actually paid attention to, because it was the handwriting that caught his attention.

He recognized that overly swirly handwriting anywhere, unfortunately.

He wondered if he could get away with just rewriting this from the bottom up instead of taking any of this "advice" from someone who obviously had a bias.

""Subpar story telling', 'overused tropes', my freckled ass," he thought. "Really, Mikey?"

He opened his notebook and started working on the storyline for his comic. Two paragraphs into it, and he left a paper ball hit the back of his head. He looked around for who threw it, and saw Owen sitting at one of the round tables in the corner, by himself, clearly being avoided by the other students. He waved for him to come over, and with nothing else better to do, TJ went over.

"How's it going, Owen?" He asked as he sat down.

"Nothing much," said Owen. "Just waiting for school to end. What'd you write?"

"Just something I thought about putting in my comic later down the line," said TJ. "You wanna see it? It doesn't count as spoilers since I don't plan to actually put it in."

"Yeah, sure," said Owen.

TJ passed it to Owen.

"Ha, lemme guess, Blumberg marked up this one," he said.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"He marked up one of my short stories once. He always marks other peoples papers up like this," said Owen. "No one takes it seriously, though. It really isn't that serious to mark all this. Nitpicking."

"Yeah, and neither am I," said TJ. "Can I read yours?"

Owen nodded, and slid his paper over.

#

"TJ, there's something in the mail for you."

TJ looked at the envelope that his father handed to him. He wasn't expecting anything in the mail, so he didn't know what to expect at first. Looking at the address and the name on it, cleared things up a bit. It was from Stan, Mr. Kelso's friend who was interested in his comic. Sitting at his desk, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. His comic, though it was a lot thicker than he remembered it being, and flipping through it, he saw why, there were papers between a good number of pages.

He turned to the first page where a sheet of printer paper that Stan had written on, making notes and comments.

First off, I want to say that I'm glad that you choose to continue writing your comic. You're well on your way to becoming a great comic book writer and artist. Having experience in making comic books myself, I want to help you develop and improve your own art style. I left a few notes in the pages that I hope you look over to help you.

And that's what was written on the rest of the papers like this. The suggestion to draw a full turnaround of at least his main characters, as well as a size chart. Some comments about the art style and how to make it stand out, something about picking three things he wants the reader to notice first to help guide him, and some other stuff that, if he didn't have to focus on doing homework. Maybe on the weekend.

He made a note to send a thank you when he was done with the next issue.

#

Standing outside the library, TJ found out that there wasn't enough bracing he could possibly do that could make him not cringe at the thought of going inside. Part of him wanted to ask if he could do this whole project on his own; he wouldn't have to deal with three other people who clearly didn't want anything to do with him. But looking at the list of things Ms. Addams wanted them to have, a paper both in English and German, a board, the possibility of baking something for the class, that would put a lot of things on him, making doing things in a group the slightest bit more bearable. Only slightly.

He found Gretchen sitting at one of larger tables, nose deep in a book. Vince and Spinelli had yet to show up, so he sat at the table in silence, waiting. Ten minutes later and the finally made their appearance, dropping their backpacks down like dead weight.

"It about time you showed up," said Gretchen, closing and setting her book away. "Some of us actually care about our grade."

"And some of us have a life," said Vince. "What are we doing first?"

"We work on the essay first. That's going to be the core of the project," said Gretchen. "We need to focus on common ingredients, influences from other countries, differences in other regions, and the most popular desserts. We each do one section, TJ, you're going to translate all of it."

"Why do I have to translate?" He asked.

"Because you already speak German, it'd be the easiest and most accurate if you do it," she said.

"Fine, but if I have to do that, I want to do the most popular dessert section," he said.

"Are we gonna bring a cake or something?" Asked Spinelli.

"Probably, but the project isn't due for three weeks, we can figure out exactly what to bring later," said Gretchen.

"You gonna bake something, Vince? Put on an apron again like before?"

"No," Vince said, sucking his teeth. "I don't do any of that gay shit."

"Anyways. We could bring a schwarzwalder kirschtorte, a black forest cake. Most people don't know that's German," said TJ. "Or donauwelle. It's a sheet cake and can feed more people. Or spekulatius. Those are cookies, but we only make those around Christmas. I would offer Berliner but those are just donuts without the holes. It'd be great if we could somehow bring spaghettieis but making it is hard, then you'd have to keep it cold. And there's bee sting cake—"

"That's fantastic, and you should definitely keep that in mind. But for now, lets focus on the essay."

The rest of the time at the library, going through the aisles, taking books off the shelf, checking it, and deciding if it was of any good for their own part of the essay or not. With two books in his hands, TJ was ready to call it a day and go home. He grabbed his backpack, and checked out the books. Once outside, he placed his skateboard on the ground, ready to ride it home.

"Hey."

He stopped and turned. Vince stood at the open of the stairs leading into the library with his backpack in one hand, and a shopping bag in the other.

"Here."

He pushed the shopping bag into TJ's hands. Looking inside, he saw that it only held one thing. A simple red baseball cap, tagged and with the sale sticker still on it, along with the receipt.

Oh.

"Thanks, but no thanks," TJ said, giving the bag back. "The thoughts nice, but that hats not something that can be replaced."

"What the hell do you mean? It's just a hat!"

"But that's just it. It wasn't just a hat. It was my grandfather's hat," he said. "It was one of the first things he bought when he came here after WII. It's special. So, um, thanks for the thought, I guess, but no thanks. The receipts still in the bag, though, so you can get your money back for it."

With that, he slung his backpack over his shoulder, and hopped on his skateboard.

#

TJ didn't think he would ever appreciate his tree house as much as he did now. The little fort was almost like a second home, where he felt less under the watch of his parents, where he hid all the things he didn't want them to find. Though he knew one day he would outgrow it, it was the only thing that made him appreciate not having grown much quite yet.

He laid back on the wooden floors, headphones on, and the CD's he bought on the floor nearby. The end of the week couldn't come fast enough if it was already here. Pushing through that project was only slightly less painful than jumping into a volcano, he imagined. But he had to do it. Like everything else. Like all the reading, and the homework, and getting up a good hour before any sane person would on their own, so mundane. It kept him up and everything, but so mundane. And gray.

So very, very grey. It almost felt like he was floating through most it, like some weird dream that he, himself, wasn't in, but at the same time, watching his body go through the motions, without any attachment to any of it. The world kept spinning, he just wasn't sure if he was still on it.

Some spirit week this was turning out to be. It was sucking the spirit right out of him.

#

The only good thing to come out of spirit week was half of Friday being dedicated to hyping up the sports teams, getting all the students out of class for the last few hours.

The students were all gathered into the gym and sat in the bleachers as the cheerleaders ran, jumped, and flipped into the middle of the gym floor, energizing the crowd with one of their routines. It looked like they were doing a good job.

TJ, CJ, Randall, Menlo, and Ashley managed to sneak away from the excited crowded and to the back of the school. With so many students rushing to get to the gym, a few not getting there could easy go unnoticed by the most observant teacher. Even outside, they could still faintly hear the cheering and yelling inside.

"I swear, I wasn't going to make it to the end of the week," said Randall.

"I know, right? Everyone being so happy sucks it right out of you," said TJ. "Not that I have much 'happy' left to begin with."

"Even still, thanks for dressing up with me, guys," said Ashley. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," said CJ.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you back here."

They turned and saw Colten and his friends turning around the corner to join them.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, we just didn't feel like being around crowds today," said TJ. "I'm all for people enjoying themselves, but this week has been draining."

"Makes me wanna throw up," said Colten as he took out a cigarette.

"Smoking's not allowed on school property," Menlo said, though it lacked the usual worry and urgency that it would've only a few weeks ago.

"That among other things," said Emily. She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic bottle, though they all doubted the clear liquid inside was water. She tossed it back, taking a swallow before screwing the top back on. "Anyone else?"

The two groups introduced themselves as the bottle was passed around before settling behind the school, enjoying the last bit of the school week away from the rest of the students.

"Can I say that I like your style?" CJ said. She sat on the stairs next to Emily.

". . .Really?" asked Emily. "T-thanks."

"You're welcome. I thought about dressing like that, but like, lighter, do you know what I mean?" she asked.

"I think I do. . ." said Emily. "That's pastel goth."

"Want some?" Colten held out the bottle to TJ, who shook his head.

"I probably shouldn't. I'll mess with my medication," TJ said. "I'm depressed, not suicidal. At least not yet."

"I'll have some," Menlo said, reaching over to take the bottle.

"Geez, Menlo. What's the occasion?"

"If I someone calls me four eyes one more goddamn time I'm going to shove my glasses down their throat," said Menlo, before opening and tossing the bottle back. "I take it no one here is going to tell the authorities."

They all nodded and grumbled their own replies.

#

"How was your week, TJ?"

TJ laid in bed, phone to his ear and with Sasha laying nearby. Though it was just after dinner, his computer was off, the books on his desk were closed and set aside, and he was dressed and ready for bed.

"Alright, I guess," said TJ. "I've been kind of bored this week."

"Bored? Is there any reason why?" Dr. Sage asked,

"I dunno. The days just feel the same. I dunno how to describe it, Dr. Sage," he said. "Sometimes it feels like I'm doing stuff but I'm not really doing them? That doesn't make sense."

"Does this happen a lot?"

"I guess. . . but it doesn't last longer than five or ten minutes, I think," said TJ.

"How long has this been going on?"

". . . I don't know," he said. "Can we talk about something else, Dr. Sage?"

"Alright. Have you been spending time with your friends?"

"Uh-huh. I made some new ones, too," he said. "They dress a little weird, but we get along, so it's fine."

"That's good."

"I think I'll invite them."

"Invite them?"

"Yeah. To my Bar Mitzvha," he said. "It's coming in a few months. I've been practicing," said TJ. He yawned. "I'm tired, Dr. Sage. Can we end this meeting short this one time?"

"Alright, but I want to talk to one of your parents. Can you hand them the phone?"

"Yeah, hold on."

He went downstairs, and found his mother in the kitchen, cutting a piece of donauwelle she made earlier. He handed her the phone before cutting a generous piece for himself and going back into his room.


	8. Chapter 8

Monday morning came, the same as all the others before it. TJ's alarm went off before the break of dawn to get him up, and his parents were probably starting to get up too. He turned off his alarm, reading the time.

But he couldn't.

He's done it for months now, and getting up this early was something he had gotten used to. He stayed laying bed, trying to find somewhere, and any one of his bones, the energy to get out of bed. Just a little bit was all he needed.

But he couldn't.

Sasha needed to be taken out and walked, and those newspapers needed to be delivered. And he needed to go to school, he had homework to turn in, and that group project, and kickboxing. He couldn't just lay in bed all day. He needed to get up.

But he couldn't.

"TJ? It's time to get up," his mother said, after knocking and opening the door.

"I can't today," TJ mumbled.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "Are you feeling sick?"

She came up to his bed and checked his forehead for a fever. There was none, of course, but her sons exhausted appearance didn't slip past her.

"I just can't today, mom," he said. "Can I take one my mental health days? I'll. . .I'll get up and take Sasha out. . .somehow. . .but I can't go to school today. Please?"

His mother listened to her sons words, and it was impossible not to crumble at how desperate he sounded. Dr. Sage did warn them that there would be days like this. Days where he couldn't get out of bed, no matter how hard he tried (and to remember that he definitely is trying). That's why they agreed on five mental health days before school started, that he could take, no questions asked.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll check on you in a little bit, okay?"

He nodded.

#

Out of the dozens of sports teams, wrestling wasn't on the list.

"They even have golf of all things, but wrestling is too much. What the hell," Spinelli mumbled.

Welp. There goes any interest she had in joining any sports team. She was banking on wrestling, but they didn't have it on the list. Not even regular wrestling for the guys. She turned from the board that was brought out onto the football field to list all the sports teams being shown off. There was the typical basketball, baseball, football, soccer, cheerleading, and some new ones, like volleyball, lacrosse, and golf of all things, apparently.

So much for that.

She started walking off the field just as the cheerleaders began yet another routine that consisted of only stacking themselves on top of each other, with the occasional jump for flare. With as much as they kept bragging about themselves she'd swear they would at least do a few flips, and toss each other into the air. You know, what people actually watch cheerleading for.

At least make it a little fun, bunch of powderpuffs. Even she could do that. She did more than that in those two weeks of ballet.

. . .

Fuck.

#

Gretchen was pretty sure this is what a panic attack felt like.

As the teacher asked questions in her first class of the day, advanced mathematics, she was ready to raise her hand and answer. More than ready, in fact. She spent the summer studying to be prepared for this class and to stand out as the best, the 'A' student. The genius.

But another hand shot up before she could even drop her pencil. And another. And another.

The teacher picked one of them, and the student quickly and correctly answered.

This repeated. The teacher putting an equation on the board, asking for the answer, and getting it from a student who wasn't her. They answered quickly, sharply, without error.

By the end of class the bubble she surrounded herself with, the sense that she would remain at the top of the class with minimum effort as she had ever year previous, burst, and she was left disillusioned.

This class was a far cry from elementary school. Where she stood out easily, now she was just one in a vast sea of students, all straight 'A's' since first grade, all 'geniuses', all just as or even smarter than she was. There was nothing that made her stand out as the smartest. They were all the smartest. And when everyone's special, no one is.

#

While he was bent over, barely able to keep himself from completely collapsing on the football field, the other students around him who came to try out, for the most part, barely looked to be out of breath at all, as if they didn't even do the same warm-up exercises. If they could be called 'warm-ups'. Five laps around the football field didn't sound that bad but Vince found out about two and half laps in that, yes, five laps was indeed a lot more than he thought he could handle. Not so much for everyone else, he found out right after, as he started to trail behind. But he couldn't. He was Vince, star athlete of third street school.

And here he was now, barely able to breathe while everyone else was acting like this was only a light jog. This was the warm up. For tryouts. Mother fucking tryouts.

Nope. This wasn't happening. He took a deep breath and stood up straight. He wasn't going to be down for the count before tryouts even really began. He didn't care if he wasn't able to move his fingers by the time this was all done. He wasn't going to be the worst out here, even if it took every last ounce of energy he had.

#

The weight of the bag muscle doubled his own weight, judging off how it pressed down on his back after he feel face first into the massive mud puddle. Gus felt the other cadets in training run past him as he pushed himself up, though his mud caked glasses made it difficult to see anything properly. The weight of the large backpack they captains made them carry, filled with everything they'll need and probably a few bricks for good measure, shifted, and he almost fell on his back.

He, and a few other of the scrawnier members who were trailing behind the other, more in shape trainees forced themselves out of the mud with various amount of difficulty before marching on though the obstacle course, aptly dubbed "hell" by those in charge. There wasn't a more appropriate name.

Well, his *huff* did say *huff* that it would be *huff* difficult.

*wheeze*

"Griswold, let's GO!" One of the captains called.

Every inch of his body ached and yelled at him to stop and lay down, but he couldn't. He couldn't let his father down. He trudged out of the mud and continued to the next part of the course.

#

The small group of judges gave an applause for the latest student to come on stage and showcase their acting and singing skills. A few of the students waiting stage left also clapped, though Mikey was sure that they were just the stage crew, and eighth graders whose roles were already secure.

This student certainly had a nice pair of lungs on him, hitting those notes without a single mistake. That would be intimidating enough if they weren't preceded by a number of other students with superb acting and/or singing skills, along with the enthusiasm to stand out once on stage, something they were all aiming for. Including him.

He hoped his unusually baritone voice would help him stand out like it did in elementary. When the judges called his name, he had to take a breath to calm his nerves.

#

He woke up again, around 10 am, his digital clock read. Counting up the hours that meant he slept for about 12 or 13 hours now? But still, TJ felt like he hasn't slept in ages. He stared up at the ceiling. So.

This was his first use of those mental health days, huh. As much as kids whined about not wanting to go to school, it was always boring when they did. Nothing special happened, and they always missed out on something at school. That was always the case. Staying home was never fun. Not then, and not now. Could he at least get out of bed?

. . .

No.

One more try.

. . .

Somehow, by some miracle, he managed to sit on the edge of his bed, though he barely kept from falling backwards and slithering back under the covers like the gremblin he felt he was becoming.

Sasha perked up when he finally stood up, and followed him downstairs. He found his mother at the kitchen table, going through the mail, bills, probably, he guessed.

'She didn't have to take of work just for me,' he thought. 'All I was gonna do is lay in bed.'

"Are you feeling a little better, TJ?" she asked.

He shrugged, reaching down to absentmindedly scratch Sasha's head.

"Dr. Sage would like it if you came in on Saturday," said his mother.

"I thought his office was closed on the weekends," he said.

"Usually, but he's made an exception in this case. It's at 9 am, alright?"

"Okay."

"Are you hungry?'

"No, thank you. I'm fine, mom."

He laid his head down on the table, too tired to do much else. He missed the more than concerned look his mother gave him.

#

The cafeteria. The place where all the students (at least in the same respective grade) gathered once a day to eat. Or spread as much mindless garbage, pointless drivel they could shove in and out of the empty waste of space they called their heads.

"Could they at least lower their voices? Some people are actually trying to study!" Victoria asked. 'A' student since first grade, fluent in 3 languages, plays 2 instruments, mathelete, mother a biologist, father a professor, aims to be a surgeon. "You know, what school I actually for."

"Let them have their fun, before they grow up and work for us," said Matthew. 'A' student, all honors classes, debate club, proficient in 2 languages, mother a meteorologist, father a physicist, aims to follow in fathers footsteps. "It'll be a lot more satisfying when they walk into our office for an interview just to be a cube monkey."

They all laughed, a momentary break from their open textbooks and homework. Gretchen didn't pause in her writing, however. She looked back and forth between what she was writing and what she was 'editing' from. This essay had to blend together; they could at least put in some effort to making their respective sections make sense. She had better things to do and work that actually made proper use of her skills than some restructuring of an essay. A simple essay at that!

"How are things going with that project, Gretchen?" Victoria asked. "The one where you have to work with the norms?"

"Dreadful," she said, plainly. "And the worst thing about it is that I have to do this. I can't risk my grade on people who don't understand the importance of maintaining a respectable GPA."

"Take it as a practice in patience; we're going to need it when we have to live in a world full of them," said Susan. Yet another 'A' student, science club member, continuous winner of a number of piano competitions, mother a fashion designer and novelist, father a businessman, aims to be professor or pianist. "I can't understand how they could stand to be around themselves."

Gretchen nodded, finishing the last bit of her edits and looking over it for errors. All looked to be in order. . .except one section. She checked and double checked the pages, and found while she had her own, Vince's and Spinelli's, but not TJ's. Dammit. Right when she was this close to getting finished with this simple-minded project.

"Well, simple people enjoy simple entertainment," she said, neatly tucking the papers into a folder. "Smoke would come billowing out of their ears if it were any more complex. Besides, it leaves more resources for those of us you use more than five brain cells."

The others at the table laughed, and she opened a textbook, only to be interrupted by a loud bang echoed throughout the cafeteria. They looked up, and saw the aftermath of a confrontation between one of the football players and another student.

"What brutes," said Victoria. "Can't even wait until they get on the field."

They continued studying.

#

"And then Stacy said that Audrey said that Melissa was like, 'no way'!"

"No way!"

"I know, right? And then Stacy said that Audrey said—"

Spinelli inwardly groaned as Ashley A. went on another speech about the latest school drama to take place that week. She was surprised that at least one of them hadn't strained their jaws with how much they kept talking on and on, day in and day out, about absolutely nothing. Honestly, why did she hang out with them again, besides the fact they were all on the cheerleading team?

A lunch tray was sat in front of her, and the other Ashley's as well once the football players finally came over. Right. That's why. She has this same chain of thoughts every Monday through Friday, you'd think she'd remember by now.

"Here you go, ladies. The best the school has to offer," one of the football players, what was his name? Brendon? Brian? Ben? Whatever, said as he and the other players sat their lunches down in front of them.

God, boys are so stupid. Put a pretty face in front of 'em and they'll do anything. Well, at least she didn't have to stand in line for lunch. Or carry her bookbag. She could probably get one of those football players to tie her freakin' shoes if she batted her eyelashes enough.

She messed around on the flip phone her parents gave her at the beginning of the school year. Her mother must be so proud. Finally dressing like a girl, and using that 'hidden beauty' mumbo jumbo she always went on about. And talking to boys, even if it was just to get them to do stuff for her. Might as well get something out of the stupid uniform.

"Like, Ashley S., I was in the beauty supply store looking for the perfect nail polish, and I found the perfect color for you!" Ashley A. said. She dug through her purse and pulled out a bottle of red nail polish. "It's this gorgeous race car red! Red is such a great color on you."

"Oh, um, thanks, Ashley A.," Spinelli said, taking the small bottle. "I'll put it on when I get home."

The other Ashley's continued on with their usual gossip.

#

"Dammit, my favorite punching bag isn't here."

Austin walked into the lunch room, leading the football team, through as they marched with their head held high, they should be. They were the ones that kept school exciting enough, so the least everyone else could do was move out of their way. It wasn't that hard; you see the read and white letterman jackets, you move.

With how hard it was to get on the team to get these jackets, Vince wasn't going to risk getting it dirty, so people needed to move. Didn't they recognize greatness when they saw it? They were the only reason anyone ever paid attention to this school. Maybe if they stayed out of the way they wouldn't get beat up.

"LaSalle!"

"Huh? What?"

"I've been calling you for like five minutes," Austin said. "I heard you and Detweiler used to hang out. Where the hell is he? I got some pent up anger and I need my favorite punching bag."

"The fuck if I know. The hell if I care," he said.

"Whatever, I'll go ask those other rejects," Austin said.

Austin, followed by some of the other players, walked over to the talked off in the one of the corners of the lunch room. Vince didn't, he sat down at their usual table. He saw Austin shove Menlo's head down onto his lunch tray and say something before coming back over.

Whatever.

That's wasn't his problem.

#

Gus sat at the edge of the table where the other cadets sat, eating lunches out of their old fashioned metal lunch boxes, playing one of the few battleship games that were set up. 'Always train for strategy and battle' the captains said. 'Always be prepared' they said.

That might've been annoying at times, but it was worth putting up with if he didn't have to be the target of bullies. The cadets were the one group that got left alone by the more popular kids, probably due their whole, 'you mess with one, you mess with all' assertion. Still, he rather stay on the sides, minding his own business, and getting at least some on his homework done.

His father made it his job to go over more military stuff for at least 30 minutes each night. The sooner he got ready for the battle field, the better, his father said. At least carrying around that huge backpack of gear wasn't as much as a strain on his entire body as it used to.

"Griswold, it's your turn," one of the other cadets said.

Gus looked and saw them taking down the pieces of their game. While battleship used to be simple and fun game, now it was just another way to stretch his strategic skills. And only a stretch it was. The challenge was long gone by now.

"E5."

A bit of chaos from across the cafeteria earned a few of them turning their eyes towards it, only to turn right back towards the game. Whatever it was, unless it was one of them, that whole 'mess with one, mess with all' didn't apply.

#

Outside, away from the judgemental eyes of the other students, the drama club freely practiced their lines without the fear of being made fun of those their passion for the arts. It's not like anyone would be able to appreciate it anyway. Only cultured and refined minds could truly see the beauty in such things.

A small round of applause was given at the end of a poem, a sonnet to be exact, along with compliments. Honest compliments and admirations.

"Ah, yes. I thoughts that I was stretching the second to last line, but now, having read it aloud, I find that I adds to the rustic, almost authentic feel I was aiming for," said Augustus. "Now, who's next? Mikey?"

"On any other day I would be glad to wax lyricals about what has inspired me, but alas, I cannot today, for my latest poem is requiring more fine tuning," said Mikey.

"Darn writing blocks. Well, they plague even the best of us," said Augustus. "Anyone else want to read theirs?"

With that, the attention shifted to another club member who was eager to read their poem, or excerpt from a story they were writing and away from him. Truth be told, there wasn't any particular poem that Mikey used as an excuse. It could've been one of the many attempts he's written and crumbled up, stuffed and then surrounding the trash bin on his room, each having been deemed unworthy to see the light of day but more than worthy to be burned in the hottest flames.

It came natural to him, writing and stringing together ordinary words to paint and extraordinary picture, but it was clear that it did for the rest of the club as well. And he wasn't going to present them with anything that was less than a perfect piece of literary art. On stage or otherwise.

Besides, he was getting really sick of the constant praise Augustus was showered with.

#

He ended up in the backyard, sitting in one of the lawn chairs as he tossed one of Sasha's ball out onto the yard for her to go catch. Playing a little bit was the least he could do after being so zapped for energy today. He heard the front door to the house open and close; his dad was home. Has it been a whole day already? It was getting harder to keep track of time without a clock or watch nearby.

He tilted his head forward and massaged his neck the best he could to try and get rid of his rising headache before it could get worse. He's been getting a lot of those lately. He didn't know if he preferred a lot of smaller headaches or the rare migraines that knocked him out for a good chunk of time. At least the headaches can be treated with aspirin.

He heard the screen door to the kitchen open and shut. His dad joined him, sitting in the other lawn chair next to him.

"Hey, TJ. How's it going?" His father asked. "I heard you've had a rough day today."

"Yeah, real rough," he mumbled. "I'm still tired, but I slept all day; I don't get it."

"It's alright. Didn't Dr. Sage say these days would happen?"

"Mm-hmm. I just want today to be over with, dad," he said. "Can I skip dinner? I'm not really hungry."

"You know we can't let you do that. We know you're not feeling good today, but you have to eat something," his father said.

"I know."

"How about if we toss a pizza in the oven? Would you eat that?"

"I'll try, dad."

"Good. Don't stay out here too long, alright?"

TJ nodded as Sasha came running up to him again. His dad gave him a pat on the back before heading back inside. After a few minutes, he stood up and went back inside, Sasha trailing behind him. Today was the longest day he's ever been through, and he slept through it all. He already behind on his homework and reading and junk. He couldn't focus on anything today, let alone homework. This was just going to make it worse. More things to worry about, when he had the energy to worry about, that is. Right now, what energy he has was simply being used to exist.

When dinner came, he could only bring himself to slowly eat one slice of pizza, rather than his usual two or three. He barely made it halfway through that one slice, however, before he sat it down.

"Is something wrong, TJ?" His smother asked.

"I'm not that hungry," he said. "I know I should eat, but. . ."

He finished hat sentence with a shrug.

"Did you eat earlier?" His father asked. He nodded.

"Cereal for breakfast, but I could only eat half of it. And, um, some leftovers for lunch, but I could only eat half of that, too. I'm sorry, I'm just wasting food. . ."

"It's alright, but I want you to finish that one piece, at least, alright? You need something in your stomach."

"Okay."

He started eating again, taking small bites and forcing it down.

He opted out of dessert afterwards, in favor of going to bed. Maybe tomorrow would be better.


	9. Chapter 9

"Menlo, where are your glasses?"

Whether the tars aligned or his medication was finally taking affect, TJ wasn't going to question why he was able to get out of bed and function the next day. Instead, he went through the motions, before getting to school, barely stepping through the doors before the bell rang. Though, it was still difficult paying attention in class. When lunch finally rolled around, it was nice just to see all his friends after yesterday.

And the first thing he noticed was the absence of Menlo's thick rimmed glasses. It was hard not to notice; they were pretty much a key part of his appearance

"Oh, um, they're broken," Menlo said.

"I'm sorry if this comes off as mean, but those things were thick. They don't look like they would break easily," said TJ. "What happened?"

"Austin happened," said Ashley. "That jerk came over hit him on the back of his head and he hit the table, and broke his glasses."

"He was looking for you, but since you weren't here, he picked on Menlo instead," Randall explained.

"It's fine, really. I have contacts," Menlo said. "I'm wearing them now."

"That still doesn't make it okay," said CJ. "You need your glasses.

"I'm just about sick of Austin and his bullshit," said TJ. "Sorry, Menlo. If I was here yesterday he would've left you alone."

"You don't have to apologize, TJ," Menlo said. "It's not your fault, and I don't blame you."

"Part of me wants to dust off the old spying gear," said Randall. "I could probably find some dirt on the guy. Blackmail 'em, keep him out of our hair."

"Nah, don't scoop to his level. That makes us to be the wrong ones," TJ mumbled. "Besides, you're not that bad without the whole snooping around and blackmailing junk."

Something hard hit the back of his head, heading it forward and into the tray of food in front of him. As he lifted his head and wiped the mashed potatoes off his face, he heard the oh so familiar laughter of Austin and his lackies.

"Look who it is," Ashley groaned.

"My favorite punching bag is back!" Austin said. He held a football, no doubtedly what he hurled at his head. "Where the hell were you yesterday? I needed someone take my frustrations out on."

TJ took a deep, shaky breath.

He didn't think of himself as a particularly violent or angry person. He preferred to handle his problems through talking than outright violence unless absolutely necessary. But now, he felt it boil up, as quick as a light switch.

"What the HELL is your problem?!" He shouted. He gave Austin a shove, one with enough force behind that the football player stumbled back a few steps, more any of them thought he would with their size difference, and the curious crowd was shocked and silenced, saved for a few 'oooo's'. "None of us ever did anything to you! Why don't you go and do something else besides bullying people?!"

"Ooo, you're angry, aren't you pint size?" Austin taunted, bouncing back. "Ha! You even look like you're gonna cry. Go ahead. Cry baby, cry!"

Austin went to give him a shove of his own, possibly to send him falling to the floor. That was clear by just the sound of his hands making contact with TJ's chest. Keeping solid footing, he only moved back about half a step.

"You're nothing but a bully, and it's about time someone did something about it!"

"And what are you gonna do about it? Nothing, that's what," Austin said.

With one hand, he pushed TJ's head down on the lunch table, sending a loud, echoing bang through the cafeteria. For a moment, there was a ringing in his ears from the impact. When he open his yes, his friends were checking on him, asking if he was okay, concern and worry on their faces, but he didn't answer.

He blinked as the ringing faded and hearing returned. He blinked, once, twice, until his vision stopped swimming. His head throbbed where it impacted the table, and he was sure there was a good chance he had a concussion. At least he wasn't bleeding and the stitch in his forehead didn't tear.

Austin's and his friends laugher at the assault stopped, and he turned to see why. A teacher, one he didn't recognize (was it because he never saw them or memory loss from the impact?) pulling Austin away from his group. The teacher signaled for him to follow as they walked out of the cafeteria.

#

TJ left the principals office with a warning. Austin left with a suspension. A quick look over by the school nurse came up with no signs of a concussion, and he was cleared to get back to class.

After he was free to go, TJ was left with a racing heart beat and more frustration than he wanted to deal with at the moment. Granted, he should've handled it better, maybe shown some restraint, but now it's done and over with.

He tried to calm himself down with a few deep breaths, though whatever effect it could have had wasn't there. He entered German class halfway through, giving the teacher the excused slip Prickly wrote for him and took his seat, doing his best to ignore the curious glances his classmates gave him behind his backs.

The rest of the class went by in a blur, since he couldn't force himself to pay attention to what was being said or written on the board. If it wasn't for the carved in letters on the old desk, he wouldn't have been able to tell that he was still in the classroom at all. What was it Dr. Sage said about this?

#

"Depersonalization."

That. . .was a big word, was the first thing TJ thought when he heard it last Saturday. He and his parents sat in Dr. Sage's office. He blinked, paying more attention to the thick clouds passing in the sky and wondering if it felt as good as when he slept on his bed when he got a new mattress than the conversation taking place right in front of him.

"It's the experience of feeling detached from ones mind or body, almost as if they're viewing things through a mirror, or outside of their body. The world looks and feels dreamlike, or hazy, and what actions they do doesn't feel like they're doing it. Like a puppet almost."

Their voices sounds like he was straining to listen in another room.

"I'm going to increase the dosage of his anti-depressant. Usually I wouldn't do it this soon, but I feel there's enough evidence in you're sons case to warrant it. It's honestly concerns me quite a bit that he's reporting it happening as often as it is. It didn't happen when first started out meetings. Hopefully with the dosage increase, he'll see his symptoms improve."

#

. . .Yeah. De-per-son-ali-zat-ion. Real big word there. Real big. That's what this was. That word was all he remembered clearly from that meeting on Saturday.

What was he doing here, again? He blinked.

School. Right. It was still. . .Tuesday. Tuesday. German class. That's why the teacher was speaking in German.

The bell rang, and everyone packed and grabbed their bag to head to the next class. TJ did the same, though he couldn't help but feel like he was moving at a sluggish pace.

"Do you have your part of the essay?"

He looked up and saw Gretchen standing next to his desk, looking impatient and pressed for time.

"Oh. Yeah, I got it, hold on." He dug through his bag, which started to get a lot more messy as of late, until he found the stapled papers and handed it to her. It was pulled out of hand as soon as it was out of his bag, and she was out of the door. He sighed. Whatever. He still had classes to get through.

#

"How was school, TJ?"

"Fine, I guess."

TJ forced himself to eat, even though he wasn't in too much in the mood to eat. His parents were worried enough about him, the least he could do was ease their concerns about. His eyes looked at the newspaper next to him at the table. While delivering them that morning, he noticed the article talking about the planetarium.

"There's a parent teacher's conference next Friday," he said. He pulled out the folded flier from his back pocket and handed it to his parents.

While they looked it over, he read more of the article that caught his attention. The theatre was updated; more seats, better equipment, some more junk. It was opening on Saturday to show off to the public. Not a lot of people liked going to museums or planetariums, so it couldn't be that crowded, even on a Saturday. Still, space was a subject he still into.

He wondered if CJ was into space, too.

It was at least an educated guess. She and him had a lot in common, so it couldn't hurt to ask.

#

. . .

It didn't take long after stepping into school the next day that TJ realized something was up. Between the glances and whispers, he almost wanted to pause on his way to his locker to ask exactly what was their issue. But he didn't.

He opened his locker, managed to find and take out what he needed with the ever growing mess inside (didn't it used to be clean at some point. . .?) and yawned. Before he could close his locker himself, it was slammed shut. Lucky he didn't catch a finger in it.

Austins group, minus Austin due to suspension, stood around him, obviously trying to intimidate him, or at least get him off his nerves. After weeks of sparring against kids taller than him, it didn't work, outnumbered or not.

"Detweiler," one of them said. "Saturday, 3 o'clock, at the park, be there."

"For what?"

"An ass kicking," he said. "Austin wants to finish what you started in the lunch room yesterday."

"What I started? What he started! Nothing would've happened if he just left people alone-"

"Whatever. Just get to the park on Saturday," he said.

And they left, walking down the hall with all the entitlement and bravado in the world. He blinked. Great. Just great. This week was turning out to be the absolute best.

#

"Alright, next issue, finally here."

TJ placed a bigger than usual stack of comics on their usual lunch table. They each took one, the remaining he intended to give to Colten and his friends. Taking Stans' advice meant that how he drew in this issue stood out from the last two, and he had more than a few words of advice to give himself about it (perspective looks off here, looks off model in this panel, that barely looks like any emotion at all on all of these pages), but practice makes perfect, right? That's what he kept telling himself.

"You changed the art style," said Menlo.

"Wanted to try something new," said TJ.

"Looks cool," said CJ.

"Yeah, it does, but I'm a little more interested in something else at the moment," said Ashley.

"Oh god, I know what it is. That 'thing' on Saturday, am I right?" he asked. They nodded. "Ugh. Can I have one day this week without any problems? This week is trash. I'll be right back, yeah?"

He stood up with the rest of the stack in hand and headed towards Colten's table. When Colten caught sight of him, he signaled for TJ to follow him out of the cafeteria and away from prying ears. They only got as far as the outside eating area. It was left empty as it became too nippy to eat lunch outside comfortably.

"Heard about the thing with Austin," Colten said.

"Looks like everyone has," said TJ. "This week is turning out to be complete trash."

"Dunno how true it is but I heard you used to come up with ways to deal with annoying people," said Colten. His left hand twitched, eager for a cigarette.

"Oh, yeah. I used to do that whole thing. Not anymore though. No, I'm just going into this without much of a plan ahead of time," TJ said. "Who the hell knows, I might not even show up."

"They're gonna call you a pussy if you do."

TJ shrugged. "Can't bring myself to care, to be quite honest."

"Well, if you need someone to rough Austin up to get him off your back, let me know. I have connections," Colten said. "Money can do amazing things."

"Thanks, I'll, ugh, keep that in mind," he said. He handed over the small stack of comics. "I finally finished the next comic. It looks different than the last one, 'cause I changed the art style after I got some advice."

"Cool, here," Colten said, reaching into his pocket.

"I already told you, you don't have to pay me—"

"Just take it, yeah? You look like you need it," Colten said, handing him an unopened pack of cigarettes with a lighter attached in their exchange. "I'll give these to the others. My offer still stands."

With that, they went back inside.

#

TJ and CJ sat on the bus on the way home after another day of kickboxing. CJ did most of the talking, what with TJ having a lack of words and being particularly sore. The week was giving him more than enough anger to take out on the unfortunate punching bag he practiced on. He massaged his aching fingers and palms, just as Kevin taught them how.

"You okay there, TJ?" CJ asked. "You zoned out there."

"Oh, yeah I'm fine, sorry," said TJ. "I've been zoning out a lot lately."

"It's alright."

"I guess. . .Hey, CJ, can I ask you something?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

"There's this thing, at the planetarium downtown. They just upgraded the theatre, and I know you're really into space and stuff, and I am, too, so I was wondering if you're not busy, if you wanna go down and see one of the showings this weekend with me?" He asked, picking at a torn part of the hem on his shirt. "Like on a date? If you if you actually want to, I understand if you don't. . ."

"I'd love to," she said.

"R-really?" he asked. "You'll go out with me?"

"Sure! You're cool," said CJ. "Why not?"

"Because you could do a lot better than me," said TJ. "I've seen other guys flirt with you and stuff, and I get why; you're cool and pretty and smart—"

"You think I'm pretty?" She asked. He blushed and nodded. "The other guys. . . they're alright, but I'm just not interested. I had someone else better on my mind."

"O-oh. . ."

"So, when are we going?"

"How about Saturday morning? I would say Sunday, but I might not live to see Sunday," he said, jokingly.

"Alright, Saturday morning," said CJ. "This is my stop. I'll see you tomorrow!"

She grabbed her bags and waved him goodbye as she climbed off the bus. TJ leaned back in his seat with a goofy grin on his face that he just couldn't put away.  
#

Between the dissociation and the daily motions of school, the days might as well have been blended together. He blinked, absentmindedly scratching the palm of his hand to bring himself back down to Earth. As interesting as it sounded, TJ didn't feel like floating off to space in the middle of class.

Which class was he in again? He looked around, posters and banders with German words and phrases. Right, German class. The teacher let them have the last twenty minutes of class to get into their groups and work on their project.

"Do you have the—"

"Here." He cut Gretchen off and handed her the translated copy of their project essay, neatly typed up. "What do we have to do now?"

"Now that the essay is finished we need to focus on the presentation we're going to give to the class," she said. "We already said we were making a board, and baking something to give to class. What's it going to be, TJ? You're the only one here with any knowledge of German desserts."

"I dunno. Does it matter if it's a cake or cookies? Black forest cake is the first thing that comes to mind, but most people have heard of that before," he mumbled. "I think buchtein would be the easiest to make a lot of, but donauwelle is sweeter. Schneeballs might be good, too, now that it's getting cold—"

"Just pick something already," Spinelli groaned. "We don't have all day."

"Fine. Donauwelle and schneeballs. Something sweet, something plain. A cake and a sort of cookie," he said. "How about that?"

"Fine, just make sure you bring it when we present," said Gretchen.

"Why do I have to bring it?"

"Because you're the only one who knows how to make it," said Vince.

"Whatever," TJ huffed. "I'm not helping putting the board together. I've done enough for this project."

He slouched, and looked at the clock, waiting for class to end. The sooner they were done with this project, the better.

#

Walking down the hallway, TJ only wanted to get to his locker and get out of school, but of course, that had to be interrupted by getting shoved into a row of lockers. He rubbed his arms as Austins friends continued down the hallway. Of course they would pick up on Austins bullying while he was gone. One of them held out fingers counting the number of days until Saturday.

"Assholes," he mumbled.

"Hey."

Colten tapped his shoulder, getting his attention.

"I'm ditching school. Wanna come?" Colten asked.

"Why?"

"Just 'cause. School's garbage today," he said. "Not that any other day is better."

"What if we get caught?"

"We won't. You coming?"

". . .yeah. Yeah, I'll go."

Colten nodded and lead the way. They went through the halls, breaking away the crowd to go through more deserted hallways that students seemed to avoid, as well as the teachers. They reached a door leading outside. TJ followed him out into the woods.

"The others aren't coming?" TJ asked.

"They didn't feel like it."

They ended up going over Colten's house, a rather large house, though when they stepped inside, it felt uncomfortably empty and unlived in.

"Make yourself comfortable. No one's ever here but me and my brother, but he doesn't really care," said Colten. He tossed his book bag on the living room couch, and lit a cigarette. He held up the lighter, wordlessly asking him if he wanted it. Colten tossed it over when he nodded.

"You skip school a lot?" TJ asked, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes.

"No, just when it gets full of too much bullshit. Everyone has their limits, and I hit mine today," said Colten. "You look like you hit yours, too."

"I hit my bullshit limit for the week. And it's only Wednesday," he said, letting out a puff of smoke. "But it's not all bad. I got a date this Saturday."

"That's cool. Speaking of Saturday, you got a plan? My offer still stands about getting someone to beat him up for you," Colten said.

"Nah. I'm not completely defenseless. I'm in kickboxing, so I should be able to get a few good hits in," TJ chuckled. "Who knows, I might even be able to knock him flat on his ass. It'll be an interesting day."

"As long as you know what you're doing."

"I have no idea what I'm doing these days," he said. "If you would've told me a year ago that I would be on antidepressants, skipping school, smoking, and have a completely different group of friends I wouldn't believe it, but here I am."

"Life's like that sometimes."

"Yep. Sure is," said TJ. "My parents are gonna kill me when they find out I'm smoking."

"Must be nice."

"Yeah, it's is. Are your parents really never home? This place is huge; it'd be a waste of space."

"They make up for never being here by buying us stuff and giving us money. I don't even think they know how old we are," said Colten. "I don't remember the last time we had dinner together."

"You can come have dinner at my house. My parents don't mind when I bring friends over."

". . .Might actually take you up on that offer. Maybe not today, but one day."

TJ nodded, and they enjoyed the silence that fell between them as their cigarettes shrank and the smoke rose.

#

TJ looked himself over in the mirror for the fifth time, scrutinizing his appearance. Clothes from his closet and drawers were strewn around the floor as he spent the last few hours trying to look put together enough but not overly dressed for a simple trip to the planetarium. Dark jeans, a white t-shirt with an open dark button up with a star print on the back.

"There's nothing simple about this," he mumbled to himself.

"And what are you all dressed up for?" He turned and saw his mother standing in the doorway. That's right, he didn't tell his parents about this. Part of him couldn't believe that CJ actually said yes.

"I, uh, have a date," he said. His mother gasp. "Is that okay, mom?"

"A date? Why didn't you tell us?" His mother asked, hugging him. "My little guy going on his first date. You must be so nervous! Don't worry, you'll do just fine; you can be quite a charmer. Who is she? Have you known her long? Where are you taking her? Do you need any advice? Oh, I wish I didn't just send your father to the store—"

"Mom, it's fine, really. I'm nervous, yeah, but I'll get over it," he said. "It's CJ, and we're going to the planetarium."

"Oh, that lovely girl you became friends with over the summer," she said. "She's seems like such a nice girl. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Thanks, mom. I gotta go, I told CJ I'd meet her down there soon."

"Do you want me to drive you there?"

"No, thanks. I'll be fine."

"Do you need any money? You gotta take a girl to get something to afterwards—"

"Already got it. I have money from my paper route, remember?" He said.

"Right, right, of course. Just ignore me, I'm a crying mess," she said. "Alright, I'll let you go before you're late. Good luck."

"Thanks, mom."

#

When he stepped off the bus, he spotted CJ sitting on a bench outside the planetarium, waiting. He waved, and when she saw him, she waved and smiled, and the nervousness that he had pushed down and away came boiling back up and settling in his stomach. As he approached, she stood, wearing an oversized sweater with constellation patterns, skirt, leggings and boots.

"You weren't waiting too long, were you?" TJ asked.

"Nah, I just got here a few minutes ago," she said. "Lead the way?"

"O-okay."

They headed inside, checking the time to the closet showing at the theatre. With an hour to spare, they walked through the exhibits to pass the time.

"It's been a while since I've been here," said CJ.

"Me too," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come with me."

"I'm glad you asked," she said. "What's that?"

She pointed towards a large round table in the middle of an open area. Going over, they saw the surface was screen, showing off an animated space station with various sections created and attached, labelled with the names of different people. Multiple keyboards were displayed on the edge of the table.

They typed in their names, pressed enter, and a red "LAUNCH" was displayed over the keyboard. They tapped it, and a rocket labelled with their named flew towards the middle of the table, opening up, the tiny astronauts coming out of the station and working to attach it.

"Hey, that's kinda cool," said CJ.

They spent the hour messing around with the space station and walking through the exhibitions before it was time for the showing in the theater.

Once the time came, they followed the small crowd into the theatre, taking their seats in front of the huge curved screen. As the lights dimmed and crowd quieted down, the seats leaned back as the movie began.

It ended up being a tour through the milky way galaxy, narrated by a voice that helped pull them into the experience. It was easy to forget that they were only in a theatre as the screen showed off a black hole, and the blazing accretion disk around it.

Feeling a little brave, TJ reached over and placed his hand over CJ's. He let out a nervous breath when she squeezed back.

When the movie ended, they were the last ones to exit the theater, still holding hands.

#

A good chunk of the school had shown up at the park Saturday, all eager to get a good view of the fight. Austin and his goons were already there, getting hyped up about the impeding confrontation. TJ and the others had a feeling they were expecting a bloodbath, mostly consisting of his blood.

"You sure you wanna do this?" CJ asked.

They walked towards the middle of the crowd, where Colten and the others held a table so the others could keep an eye on the fight. The noise picked up a bit when he finally showed up.

"Pretty much. It's not like I can back out of it now," said TJ. "Help me wrap up?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two hand wraps, the same he used during practice. He wrapped his left hand on his own, having memorized the proper way to avoid injury, and CJ did the other. Tight but not too tight.

"As much as I want to see Austin get laid on his ass, I'm not blind. He's got a good head and a half over you," said Randall. He readjusted the setting on his video camera.

"Not to mention he's built like a fucking house," said Colten. He finished one cigarette and started on another. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay, Detweiler?"

"We'll see," he said.

"Let's go, Detweiler!" Austin shouted. "I ain't got all day! I got places I need to be!"

"Give me a minute, alright?" TJ shouted back.

"I know you can take care of yourself out there, but still, be careful," CJ said. She gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed. "Alright?"

"Alright."

He gave them all a reassuring smile before turning and walking into the middle of the open area everyone surrounded. Austin walked towards the middle not a moment after, getting those on his side, which was to say a lot of them, hyped up, flexing, throwing a few punches into the air, and a kick just for show.

"You look real confident for someone who's about to get knocked on their ass," said Austin. "Last chance to back out."

TJ just shook his head, getting into the proper stance he learned in his months of practice.

"Ha! You think that little stance makes you look tough, huh? Whatever," he said. "Your funeral."

With that, Austin brought his fists up and swung, aiming for his head, but only hit air as TJ dodged it. Austin huffed, but only for a second before throwing more punches his way, all only going through the air as he continued to dodge most and deflect the few that came too close. Austin stopped to catch his breath, and looked around at the mumbling crowd.

"You're a fast little shit, aren't you?" Austin huffed. "Throw a punch, pussy!"

He continued throwing punches, putting more power behind them, as TJ and CJ could tell from experience, but becoming increasingly thrown forward an off balance for a brief second. Part of him wanted to wait this whole thing out until Austin wore himself down, but as he kept going, it became clear that he wasn't going to run out of steam anytime soon, and that meant throwing a punch.

Austin gave him an opening which a particularly strong, frustrated punch that made him lean over just a bit more. One swift motion, and he landed a punch to Austin's face. The sound resonated, and the cheering from the crowd stopped as Austin fell to the ground.

Austin groaned, and TJ tried to shake the pain from his knuckles. There was at least a month's worth of dealing with Austin's bullshit behind that one.

"Lucky shot, you little fuck," Austin growled as he stood back on his feet. He wiped the blood from his nose. TJ looked at the bandages wrapped around his fingers and saw a few drops. In hindsight, aiming for the hardest part of the body was a poor choice. "It's all the luck you're gonna get."

Austin threw another punch, and TJ dodged, but Austin, expecting this, took the chance to snatch him by the hair and send a volley of hard hitting punches to his face. TJ left unbalanced and unable to get himself out of the football players grasp. When Austin finally release him, he fell to the ground, face aching, able to feel the rising bruises and what felt like a black eye.

A shadow loomed over him, but he didn't need to look to know who it was. Austin's weight kept him pinned to the ground as the punches resumed.

"C'mon, Austin, that's not fair!" He heard CJ shout from the crowd. If he wasn't trying to block the rain of hits to his face, he would've seen his friends holding her back. With the growing pain in his face, he didn't know how much time passed when Austin finally climbed off of him and swapped his punches for a few kicks in the stomach.

"If you know what's good for you, you'd stay down, runt," Austin snarled.

TJ watched him walk back over to his friends, giving out high fives. His own friends came running over as he climbed back onto his feet. He blinked as blood trailed down his face from the top of his forehead and from various cuts.

"M'fine, m'fine," he said, panting, not taking his eyes off the bully. "It looks worse than it really is."

"You're bleeding. I wouldn't call that fine," said Menlo.

"I am, really," he insisted. "Go sit back down, okay?"

"Are you sure?" CJ asked. TJ nodded. "Alright. C'mon guys."

His friends walked back to their table, sending him worried looks.

"AUSTIN!" He shouted, getting the attention of the bully who was just about to leave. He wiped his face and spat out a bit of blood. Austin smirked. "We're not finished!"

"Geez, do you like getting the shit beat out of you or something?" Austin taunted. "C'mon, pipsqueak, cut your losses and give up." He shook his head and got back into a fighting stance. "You must be in the mood to die. Hold on for a minute, guys. I gotta take care of a bug that won't go away."

Austin marched back over, smirking and cracking his knuckles. And the fight resumed.

The football player started throwing punches again, and TJ dodged, then ducked. He sent a hard upper cut to Austin's diaphragm, aiming for behind him to hit the hardest.

Austin heaved, the air in his lungs being swiftly knocked out of him. He stumbled back as TJ separated himself from him, coughing, gasping for air, crouched over, and hugging his abdomen in pain. Though he didn't fall over on his own, TJ kicking his feet from underneath him did the job. He stood over the fallen bully, leaning down and sending hit after hit downward on him, releasing all the anger and frustration came pouring out in a series of ruthless punches.

. . .

. . .

. . .

He stopped when Austin's friends pulled him off. He lightly pulled himself out of their grasp, and looked down at their leader, on the ground, curled in on himself in a sad attempt to guard himself. He clutches his broken and bleeding nose.

"I'm done," TJ said. He gave Austin one more kick to the stomach. "I'm done with your bullshit, Austin. I bet you'll leave me alone now, won't you?!"

He turned and walked from the fight scene, the crowd opening and moving out of his path. His friends followed close behind as he left the park. He unwrapped his hands and tossed the band of fabric in a trash can as he passed.

"That was awesome! None of them expect that," said Randall when they caught up with them.

"Uh-huh," TJ mumbled. "I need a shower, but I can't go home like this. My parents aren't gonna be happy seeing me come home all bloody. Colten, can I clean up at your place?"

"Yeah, sure," Colten said.

"Thanks. . .I'll see you guys later."

He waved the rest of them goodbye as he followed Colten to his house.

An hour later, he opened the door to his house, keeping an ear out or any sign of his parents. Hearing none, he headed to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.


	10. Chapter 10

TJ would've been lying if he said beating the crap out of Austin wasn't cathartic.

Walking to school the following Monday, part of him wanted to see the football player's face just to get a good look at the damage. His own face had a few scratches, but nothing that couldn't be brushed aside as coming from a fall, and didn't have more than a few aches here and there. Nothing he wasn't used to from boxing practice.

Maybe now Austin will learn to leave him and others alone. He didn't like fighting, but he wasn't ignorant to the fact that sometimes the only way to get a bully off your back if to knock them flat on their ass.

On his way to his locker, the crowd parted, whispering amongst themselves, most likely about the fight the previous Saturday. A smirk rose when he caught a glance of Austin, face scratched, nose casted, eye blackened, knocked down a few pegs. Austin did his best to send a death glare, but it was hard to take him seriously with all those bruises on his face.

#

Sitting in remedial lit, TJ tried to get into the book that was just handed out for them to start reading. Some mystery book. The Barnaby Boys books were easy enough to get into, but so far, this one wasn't doing it for him. Maybe if just kept reading, something would hook him in. The last one was a lot more interesting, and he finished it early.

The teacher handed back the few essays that were handed it the week before. Some students opted for getting at least one of them out of the way, TJ included. All his other classes had a lot of work, might as well get most of it out of the way. Only two more to go.

When his was placed on his desk, he looked and saw a nice red 'C' at the top, along with a sticky note attached, asking for him to meet the teacher after class. He aimed for a B, but he'd settle for a C. A 'C' was average. In the middle. He was used to being average. Average looking, average height, average grades, average family, average.

When the bell rang, he packed the new book away and headed towards the teachers desk with his essay in hand.

"You wanted to see me, Mrs. Patiel?" he asked.

"Yes, TJ. I graded your paper and I noticed a large amount of spelling and grammatical mistakes. You told me you were recently diagnosed with dyslexia, and knowing this, it makes a lot more sense," said Mrs. Patiel. "Besides those mistakes, you wrote a very good essay, but I had to take the mistakes into your grade. I want to give you a chance to correct those mistakes for a better grade. I'll give you until the end of the week to correct as much of it as you can, alright? If you need help, you can stay after school and I'll be happy to help you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Patiel. I'll try to get it done in time."

#

"Here is an outline for the display board. Try not to make it too flashy; this isn't elementary school. We have to at least appear to me mature in our choices."

With their free time in German, Gretchen set a rough drawing of what the display board should look like, according to her. There wasn't much protest, TJ believed he already did enough for this project, and his best guess was that Vince and Spinelli just didn't care.

"And who's putting it together?" Vince asked.

"One of you three," Gretchen said. She placed a copy of the essay on her desk, parts of which were going on the display. "I already corrected your horribly written parts, and drafted what the board should look like."

"I'm not doing it. I'm busy enough already," said Spinelli.

"And I have practice," said Vince.

"I don't care which one of you do it. Just do it," said Gretchen, moving the papers to the desk of the person closest to her, Vince.

He looked at the paper with disgust, and didn't want to touch it. TJ was wondering if he could get some writing done for creative writing class when the papers were placed on his desk.

"You do it," Vince told him. "I've got better things to do than work on some dumb project."

"Uh, no? I already did enough for this thing," TJ shot back. "I wrote my part of the essay, translated it all, and I'm baking the food to bring in. I'm not doing this, too."

"So what? I have football practice, I can't do it."

"Yes you can. I don't know what your grade in this class is, but I have an 'A'. I never wanted to work in this group with any of you, and I'm ready to take this hit to my grade if I have to," he said. "I'm not doing this board. Even if it means getting an 'F' on the whole project. But sports teams are strict on their members keeping their grades up, right? You can't afford to take that chance."

TJ shoved the papers back onto his desk.

"Spinelli—"

"No. I have practice, too, moron," she snapped. "I don't have any more time than you do."

"Is there something wrong?" The teacher asked when she came over.

"They can't decide which of them should put the board together," said Gretchen. She pointed at the three of them with her pencil.

"How about you all work on it together?" The teacher suggested. "You can pick one off your homes to put it together at, or do it at the library. How about that?"

There was a round of groans from the four of them.

"The library. I don't want any of you in my house."

None of them made any move to argue with that. The library was the most neutral place to get it done between every other place. They agreed to meet after school the next day to get the board done.

#

The kickboxing team gathered in a circle at the end of practice, rather than give their usual goodbyes and heading home right away, as per Kevin's request. Once they all caught their breath, Kevin spoke.

"This Friday, we're taking final height and weight measurements for the tournament. We already explained to you all that those two things determine which class each of you can compete in, and what each of you need to focus on to be at your best. When you're older, it'll just be your weight, but since you're all at that age where you grow like weeds, it's your height and weight," Kevin explained. "So make sure you're eating your meats and veggies. I want all of you to make it."

With that, the team split up, grabbing their respective team bags before heading out. TJ removed his bandages from his hands and tossed them in the bag with more for than necessary. Great. Something else to worry about, right when he was having a good day.

"Something the matter, dude?" CJ asked him.

"Everything," TJ said as they headed out together. "I'm not gonna make the cut. I'm the shortest person in here, and I probably weigh the least, too. I probably won't even make it to be considered for lightweights."

"It'll be okay. I'm sure you'll make it in. Kevin would have to be crazy to not let you in," said CJ. "You're one of the best fighters in here."

"That won't mean much when I have to stand up to the rules," he said. "Maybe if I pig out over the next couple of days I could put on a few pounds, maybe just barely make it in."

"Maybe. But you shouldn't do that. Bingeing isn't good for you," said CJ.

"Yeah. . .If I don't make it, promise to give the other teams hell for me?"

"Promise," she said just as the bus drove up.

#

On Tuesday, it was harder to brush aside the whispers of other students when it was paired with the occasional pointing in his direction. TJ didn't want to give them the attention they didn't deserve, but it was starting to get annoying by second period. Austin was still doing his best to give him the most heated glare he could through his black eye.

Turning the corner, he overheard a few of the words being spread between the other students.

". . . Did you see the way he wailed on Austin last Saturday?"

". . .Fuckin' psycho, man. . "

"How much you wanna bet he owns a gun"

He kept ignoring them, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing him upset or uncomfortable. He didn't want to get involved in the ugly world of middle school gossip. The sooner the day was over, the better. But it wasn't even halfway through yet. He scratched his heat, still somewhat not used to not constantly wearing a hat.

His old one was safely on his dresser, away from where it could be further damaged. Maybe he should get another hat if it was bothering him so much. His thoughts were interrupted when he was shoved into the lockers and what he was carrying was kicked across the hallway. He didn't have to look up to see that it was Austin and his lackies that did it, and were laughing as if it was the funniest thig they've ever seen.

With the hallway crowd thinning, it was easy enough to pick his books and papers up without them getting stepped on. At least there weren't a lot of people around to see how dumb he looked on the hallway floor getting his stuff of the ground.

Pathetic

#

None of them showed up at the library. TJ would say that he was surprised but that would be a lie. He was generous, waiting for over an hour for one of the others to appear, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but an hour passed, and he was still sitting at an empty table, his already shortened patience wearing thin.

Fine.

'Alright. I'll make the damn board. I'll make the best damn board they've ever seen,' he thought. He grabbed his bag and headed towards the door.

He already did so much for this project, at least 60% of it when it there were three other people who all thought they were too good to work on it. Fine.

Fucking fine.

If he was doing 70% of the work, he was going to be damn sure he got 70% of the grade.

#

Sipping on a vanilla milkshake, TJ looked at one of the pictures that were being passed around the booth at Kelsos. There were other pictures on the table, all of that abandoned building he explored with Butch and Randall. He was starting to get in the mood to look around for more abandoned places to explore. He needed more practice drawing backgrounds.

"This one is my favorite," Randall said, tapping on one photo of the large ballroom they found. "I love the lighting in this one. You can see what's left of the color on the windows. And this one is a great shot of the flooring, or what's left of it, and the staircase in the background."

'Wow, these are great pictures," said Menlo. "To think you were wasting this talent on snooping around the playground."

"Better late than never," he said. "We should find another place to go to. I gotta take more pictures like this."

"Mm-hmm. I think there's an abandoned factory on the edge of town somewhere," said TJ. "Maybe Colten knows some place, I'll ask him. Can I get a copy of this one?"

"Sure."

The sound of a straw sipping from an empty cup caught all their attention. They turned to Ashley, who looked less than happy with her eyes on the table and an annoyed expression on her face.

"Something wrong, Ashley?" CJ asked.

"Oh, um, it's nothing. Just something stupid I shouldn't be thinking about anyways," she mumbled.

"It's gotta be something important if it's bothering you this much," said CJ.

"I was in the bathroom and the other Ashley's were in there, too, and they were making fun of me," said Ashley. "I know I should just ignore it, but it still bothers me."

"Ugh, bullying. Can't stand it," CJ said. "They just hate it that you're doing just fine without 'em! You don't need their little group and that burns them on the inside, so they gotta make you feel like crap to make themselves feel better."

"She's right. The more you're fine without them, the more they'll hate it," said Menlo. "Simple middle schooler clique psychology. I hate to say it, but this is one of the times you'll just have to ignore."

"Or, OR!" Randall said.

"Or?" Ashley asked.

"We get some dirt on them and use it to get them to leave you alone," he suggested. "You'd be surprised what you can get people to do with a little blackmail."

"Nah, you don't want to scoop to their level," said TJ.

"The hell I don't. You think you can get some dirt on them, Weems?"

"Sure. Everyone has their dirt they want to hide. It hasn't been that long since I spied on other people," said Randall. "Give me until the end of next week. I'll find something."

"Great."

None of them protested against it. TJ was going to, but he was stopped when he remembered what he was planning for his German class project. What with everything that was happening, a little revenge sounded good right about now, and all the 'being the bigger person' speeches in the world wasn't enough to stop him or make him stop anyone else. He just didn't have the energy to be morally upright.

#

As practice continued on, the kickboxers were called over to the edge of the gym to get their height and weight checked for what weight class they would be in. TJ did his best to ignore it all, and focused on beating the crap on the bag hanging in front of him. Why bother getting his hopes up for something that he know wasn't going to happen?

"I'm a lightweight," CJ said when she came over.

"Congratulations. Try not to hurt the opponents too much," said TJ.

"No promises."

"Detweiler!" Kevin called from the other side of the gym. TJ sighed.

"Hey, don't worry. You never know. You might just make it in," said CJ.

"Not gonna hold my breath. . ."

He walked over to where Kevin and another coach were waiting with a clipboard in hand. He pulled off his gloves and set them aside before standing next to the wall where they checked his height. After that was marked down, he stepped onto the scale and watched them adjust the little black bars.

"Lemme guess, I'm too short, right?" he said.

"I'm sorry, dude. If it was up to me, I'd have you in the ring with everyone else," said Kevin. "You really are one of my best fighters in here, but we have to work within regulations."

"It's fine. I knew I wasn't gonna make it," TJ said. "It's not like I had my hopes up or anything."

"Look, I know you can't compete, but I'd really like it if you helped me train the others," said Kevin. "You're great at this, kid. It's not that we don't think you wouldn't last in the ring; strength isn't the issue here."

"Yeah, I'll help," said TJ. "I'm just disappointed. All this training for nothing. . ."

"It's not for nothing, I promise. There's always next year," he said. "How about you take the rest of practice off? We aren't doing anything but the basics today, anyways."

TJ nodded and picked up his gloves. He waved goodbye to CJ before grabbing his gym back and heading out, opting for the long walk home than a bus ride.

Too short. It's not like he wasn't aware that the men in his family tended to be short overall, and if his father was anything to go by, he wasn't going to be very tall at all. But not being the height of a fourth grader would be nice. He should've had a growth spurt by now. 'It'll happen any day now you'll see, son' his parents keep saying. It sure seemed to be taking it's time.

At least it was a Friday. He has the whole weekend to mope about it. Maybe lock himself in his room and listen to music all weekend. And binge on candy, too.

"Detweiler, what are you doing out here?"

He turned and saw Colten coming out of the shop he just passed with a shopping bag in hand.

"I got out of kickboxing early," he said. "I decided to walk home today. What are you here for?"

"Buying some books that finally came in," he said. "I'm heading home for the night. You wanna come over?"

"Maybe tomorrow. I kinda want to call it an early night," said TJ.

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Detweiler."

TJ took a few steps away before stopping. Spending the rest of the night in his room wouldn't really make him feel better, would it?

"You know what, I take it back," he said. He turned and caught up with Colten. "I'll go over to your place."

They ended up in Coltens room. With some music on in the background, cigarette smoke floated up to the ceiling and out of the room as they smoked away the stress on their shoulders. TJ wondered how anyone would read the number of books that lined one of the walls, but then again, he had more comics than what would be considered normal. Everyone had their hobbies.

"You read all those?" TJ asked.

"Mm-hmm. At least twice," said Colten. "You can forget about how shit the world can be for a few hours with a good enough book. I swear, writers are like magicians with the things they can write."

"I can't imagine reading all those. You basically have a library in your room."

"Guess you can say that."

"Hey, my and a couple of my other friend were wondering if you knew a couple of abandoned places around town. We broke into one abandoned house just to see what it looked like inside and we got some good pictures from it. I'm using some of them for my comic."

"So you think just 'cause I'm goth I hang around creepy old abandoned buildings?" Colten asked.

"N-No, I just thought that maybe you'd know some place. . ."

"Relax, it's fine. Um. . .There's an abandoned factory outside of town. A couple of them actually. . .There's an old neighborhood filled with houses that are breaking down. I don't think a lot of people know about that place because the road to it is worn down. If you go far enough into the woods there's a few houses hidden out there," he said. "There's actually a lot of abandoned places around this town. There might be an old train station, but I never went inside. I'll write down where you can find them before you head out."

"Thanks. You wanna come?"

"Nah. Parents are coming home tomorrow. I have to be here for a dinner and make us look like a functioning family," said Colten. "I'm trying to figure out if it's better or worse to smoke a lot now to make up for what I won't be able to this weekend."

"Probably worse. You'll crave more while they're here, and there would be a stronger smell they could find."

"Good point. It's gonna be hard, though. I might have to sneak out at night just to get away from it all."

"You sneak out a lot?"

"Mm-hmm. I dunno if you can call it sneaking out if your parents aren't even there to stop you, but yeah, I go out late sometimes," said Colten. "The town is nice and quiet at night, like you wouldn't believe. It almost calms my anxiety as much as these cigarettes."

He stubbed the remains of his cigarette out on an ash tray that was sat between the two of them. He looked at his pack. About half left.

"Can I ask what caused your anxiety?" TJ asked.

"Me and my brother, we used to travel with our parents as they worked. They go all over the place. One week we could be in New York with our mom. The next we could be in California with our dad. Then to Florida with mom, and to DC with dad. We never had one place where we just stayed and lived, and we were homeschooled. All that moving, never having a constant place to stay and not knowing where you would be in 12 hours really does a number on a little kid," he explained. "I know it sounds like I'm just complaining, because people would love to travel around that much, but to a 5 or 6 or 7 year old, it's not so great. If there's anything that I learned is that little kids need something to stay the same. Without it, they're on edge about when things are going to change again. And then we finally moved here a few years ago. . .I still wonder when is the day going to come that we're uprooted again, and that turned to anxiety, which needed pills, and here I am."

"I don't think that's complaining. Everyone has what they can and can't handle," TJ said. "It might now be the best way to deal with it, but you found what calms you down."

"Mmm."

They sat in calm and comfortable silence, listening to the music. From outside his window, they could see that it was starting to rain. Fitting. There was the sound of a car pulling up, and Colten groaned.

"That's gotta be my parents. Here, get rid of these for me, will you?" Colten handed him the half empty pack of cigarettes.

"Okay, I'll see you later, I guess."

Colten walked him to the front door where his parents were just walking up the driveway. TJ pulled out a jacket from his bag and started on his way home. Once home, he patted Sasha on the head and went up to his room. He took of the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He's supposed to get rid of these. It's not like he was a hardcore smoker. He only smoked, like, what? Three times.

But it would be kind of waste just to throw them out, wouldn't it?


	11. Chapter 11

They ended up finding an abandoned school of all places from the directions Colten gave him. TJ, Butch, and Randall didn't have to break down a door to get in, since what was left of it was its concrete skeleton and a few broken windows. They came armed with masks to keep from breathing in the dust and mold that was sure to be there. No reason to get sick just for doing a little exploring.

"This place is small for a school," said TJ. "You think they built Third Street Elementary to replace this one?"

"Probably," said Butch.

TJ and Randall walked further into the school, while Butch stayed behind, choosing to sketch a simple hallway. It was weird enough being in a school when everyone had gone home, but a school that was completely abandoned and left to rot almost felt haunted. Kids used to run through these halls. Some of them might've been troublemakers like he used to be. Were some of those kids all grown up now and living in that old folks home?

Still, it was oddly calming.

"Hey, look in here," said Randall. TJ followed him through a large door opened, though the doors were long gone.

The room was large, and the floor was lined with the remains of rotted and destroyed books, and what was left of the bookshelves was broken and decaying wood. The sunlight that shone through the window made it easy to get around without tripping on something they might not have seen otherwise. The room was obviously a library.

"Cool room."

TJ continued walking through the room as Randall took pictures. The only sound was the snapping of the camera lens and his footsteps. He wasn't that big of a reader, but it seemed disrespectful just to leave books behind like this. Something or other about books being 'the key to knowledge' or whatever. Something like that.

How much of this town was made up of abandoned buildings was creepy. At least they should be torn down and something else was built over it. Then again, he wouldn't be here if that was the case. A hollowed out, forgotten building, barely holding things together. A little like him, if he thought about it.

Through one window he saw a pile of rusting metal, the remains of what was the playground. The grass was wild and overgrown, probably home to any number of pests. He headed back to the front. There had to be more to see.

He headed back inside, and found Butch is what had to be the schools auditorium. There was an area where a stage must've been, complete with a few strips of curtains remaining, plus rows and rows of broken down seats. Unlike the one at the elementary school, this auditorium was in a flat room.

"People are calling you a nutcase after your fight with Austin," Butch said.

"Ugh."

"I'm guessing the combination of the surprise of you beating the shit out of him with how quiet you've been this school year compared to in elementary," he said. "Some are even wondering if you have a gun."

"Just a BB gun under my bed. I haven't touched that thing in years. . .," said TJ. "I swear, it's like people don't have anything better to do except spread rumors."

"That's what middle school is for, Detweiler," said Butch.

"Any sign of them moving on to something else?"

"Nope. But give it time. They'll find something else to gossip about. Eventually."

"Eventually can't come soon enough," TJ said. "How's your drawing coming along?"

"Great. I tried drawing people, but I'm a lot better at landscapes, so I'm just going to stick to that," Butch said. "I'm on my last couple of pages in my sketchbook, so I'm heading to the craft store to get a new one. Wanna come?"

"Sure. I need to pick up some stuff, anyways."

After their time exploring the abandoned school, Butch and TJ broke off from Randall to head to the craft store. With money to spend, TJ had no issue splurging on one of the pricier sketchbooks, as well as proper drawing pencils, and two of those small mannequins, just to help him draw body proportions. Stan wrote him telling him that there was nothing wrong with using references, even the most experienced artists used them.

The two of them somehow ended up at the park, absentmindedly doodling away. Neither of them were that focused on perfecting whatever it is they were drawing, just letting their imaginations wander. TJ patted his pockets until he found what he was looking for.

"I never took you for a smoker, Detweiler," Butch commented.

"Ha, me neither. But everyone's got their vices, right? This is just mine," he said. "It could be worse. I could be doing heroin."

"It's amazing how much middle school changes people."

"Mm-hmm."

"Almost makes me miss elementary school."

"Almost?"

"Yeah. People just don't take elementary school kids that seriously. But I'm sure that's nothing you aren't familiar with. They still don't take us too seriously, but at least they listen, now," said Butch. "At least back then everyone just acted like themselves. But in middle school, everyone becomes so full of themselves. Their heads are full of what they've seen about middle school on TV. The cliques, the drama, the relationships. Everyone's trying to be like that, trying to act all grown up before their voices even change. And they try so hard to act like they have a handle on things, when that's not true at all. They forget that it's better to just be themselves, and that none of us has a clue to what we're doing. We're all still just a bunch of confused kids trying to get a handle on this 'growing up' thing. And the few of us who don't fall into that trap are the outcasts. The weird ones. The freaks. The losers. When in reality we have a better grasp on who we are and who we want to become then any of them. They all look happy in their cliques, but I'd bet every dollar I'd ever make that when you peel back the layers, they're just as much of a mess as we are."

"Mm."

"Sorry about ranting. I needed to get that off my chest," he said. "It's just enraging, seeing people you know act just to fit into groups."

"No, I understand. It makes me angry, too," said TJ. "I try not to think about it."

"I need to try that."

They stayed for a little longer, until it became clear that it was going to rain.

#

"And these are donauwelle. They're usually made with cherries, but my grandmother sometimes made them with blueberries. It's a sheet cake, made with layers of plain and chocolate pound cake, with sour cherries, and topped with buttercream and chocolate glaze. It's called donauwelle because of the wavy pattern between the layers. It's also called Schneewitchenkuchentorche, or Snow White cake, because of the white, black, and red color."

The other students in the class either ate a piece of donauwelle or a schneeball, and from the looks of it, they were all enjoying which ever they chose, which was good. That was TJ knew he got the recipe right. As they ate, they presented their project, or more precisely, he and Gretchen were presenting, while Vince and Spinelli were struggling to make it look like they weren't just standing there without a clue to what was going on.

Following the steps of the other groups, they took turns presenting, some with more confidence in what they were saying than others. By the end of it, he was left with half a container filled with desserts, and a sure 'A'.

"Mrs. Addams, can I speak to you for a minute?" TJ asked once all the other students left. "It's about my group project."

"Oh, I quite enjoyed your group project, and I think the rest of the class did, too," said Mrs. Addams. "What's the matter?"

"It's just that I don't think we worked evenly on the project. I wrote one part of the essay, then translated the whole thing, then came up with what to bake, baked it, and I made the board up," he said. "The others just worked on the essay, and I don't think that it's fair if we all took the same grade if we all didn't put in the same amount of work into it. I tried to get them to do more but they wouldn't."

"Wow, that does sound quite unfair. Thank you for telling me this, TJ. I'll take this into consideration when grading," she said.

"Thanks, Mrs. Addams."

#

"Oh, boy. The dirt I got on the Ashley's almost makes me want to spy on the whole student body."

Ashley and Randell met up at her house, away from anyone who could overhear their conversation.

"What do you got, Weems?"

"That depends, who do you want to start with? Ashley A, B, Q, S? Pick a letter," said Randall.

"Ashley A. If I'm going to stop all of them I need to take out the head."

"The dirt I have on Ashley A. Well, this isn't much you can blackmail her for, but it turns out that she didn't make it past the first part of the cheerleading tryouts, either. What happened was, she threated to out the cheerleading captain as a lesbian if she didn't let her on the team, and well, it worked. I managed to get some pictures of her leaving a classroom after school with a guy."

Randall handed her a short stack of pictures. She fingered through them. They showed just as he said, Ashley A leaving an empty classroom with boy behind her.

"I also got some pictures of her getting in and out of a car with some high school looking guy. I'm pretty sure they aren't related. They look nothing alike, and Ashley A. doesn't have an older brother," said Randall. He handed over more pictures and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting between them. "I looked in every kids file back at Third Street, and then some. Her immediate family is the only one that lives around here. Everyone else is out of state."

"Ooo, Ashley A. hooking up with high school boys? She always tried to act older than she was," said Ashley. "If this got out, everyone would think she's a slut. She'd be rejected from the cheerleading clique before school let out, and if there's anything Ashley A. thrives off of it's being Queen B. This would knock her off her throne."

"Sure would. But you didn't hear any of this from me," he said.

"Of course. So, what about the others? I need that dirt, too, just in case."

"I managed to get some stuff on Ashley B and Q, but I couldn't really find anything on Spinelli that's I think would work to blackmail her with."

"Let's hold out on that. Getting on Ashley A. might be enough to get them off my back," said Ashley. "Thanks, Weems. Your spying actually comes in handy."

#

"What do you mean I can't play?!"

While the rest of the football team ran laps to warm up, Vince was pulled to the sidelines by one of the coaches. By the look on his face, whatever he was being pulled aside for wasn't good. And he was right, with the coach telling him that, at least for the time being, he was off the team.

"It's your grades, LaSalle. You know the rules about keeping your grades up. Poor grades mean you don't get to play, and one of your grades dropped," said the coach. "And that means for now, you're off the team."

"One of my grades dropped? Which grade?"

"I dunno," the coach said. He looked through the papers on his clipboard. "German? Anyways, get your grades back up, and your back on the team. Until then, I have to ask you to step off the field."

German class. What the hell? He grabbed his helmet and marched off the field, pissed. He couldn't play because of some bullshit. Maybe it was some kind of mistake. School only got out a little while ago. Maybe Mrs. Addams was still here and there was some sort of misunderstanding.

He jogged to the classroom, hoping to get this whole mess straightened out and get back on the field, but when he made it, he found that Gretchen and Spinelli were also there.

"Oh, Vince, just the person I wanted to see," said Mrs. Addams. "Come in, come in, you're a part of this discussion."

"What's going on?"

"This is about your grades on your group project," Mrs. Addams said. "I've been told that the work wasn't evenly distributed through the group, and that the bulk of the work was put on TJ. Once that was brought to my attention, I had to adjust your grade."

"How is that fair?!" Spinelli asked.

"It's fair because the project was meant for all of you to do equal amounts of the work," said the teacher.

"But he could be lying, Mrs. Addams!"

"I highly doubt that. I found it odd how your presentation in front of the class went. The three of you sounded unsure in what you were saying, almost like you didn't actually practice what you were going to say," Mrs. Addams said.

"The rest of us had other things to do! I had practice!" Vince protested.

"That is still no excuse. I suggest the three of you learn to manage your time better and get to work on bringing your grades back up. This isn't elementary school; your actions have consequences, and the grade is final," said Mrs. Addams. "End of discussion."

The three of them walk out of the classroom, frustrated and unable to do anything about their grade on the project. Vince punched the nearby lockers in frustration.

"I can't believe that piece of shit," he said. "I'm getting back at him for this."

He marched down the hall, leaving the two girls behind.

#

Humming.

That dull humming that often met him in his dreams was following TJ through the whole school day. He wasn't paying attention to the details, or rather, he couldn't if he tried, and he was trying. It was all a haze, an ugly gray scaled haze that reminded him too much of his dreams with how it looked and felt. It was almost like he was watching himself, and none of it felt real.

He would never get used to this depersonalization stuff. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe he would wake up any minute now, in his bed in the middle of the nigh—

He grabbed by both his arms, and before he could react, he was dragged out of the school. By the time he was able to blink and figure out where he was, he saw he was behind the bleachers on the football field. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, holding his stomach after being punched in the gut.

Then came more punches and kicks, not giving him a chance to get up, let along fight back. He could feel the bruises forming as they continued beating the crap out of him, though he did find it funny how they did it in a group instead of one on one, like a bunch of cowards. He was kicked in the head before being lifted and held up by his arms.

One strong punch to his face was what it took to snap him out of his suffocating haze. He blinked, and saw that it was Austin, standing in front of him with his fists raised, a smug expression, and his nose still in that stupid cast.

"Not so strong now, huh, short shit?" Austin taunted. "C'mon, where's that fight you had before?"

TJ spat blood in his face in response. Austin started beating on him again, landing his on his face and gut, knocking the wind out of him. They all took turns doing the same, leaving him feeling like he got hit by a truck, and that an ice bath sounded like heaven. The ringing in his ears only further disoriented him. The world was already spinning, and he wasn't sure if he could walk home.

"This is your fault, short shit. You should've just stayed down in our fight. None of this would be happening," Austin said. "LaSalle, did you get your hits in?"

If TJ could see straight and had enough in him to lift his head, he would see Vince standing in the back, looking somewhat unsure about the situation in front of him.

"Well? What are you waiting for? This was your idea," Austin said. "Beat him up for getting you get kicked off the team!"

"Right. . ."

He stepped forward to, as Austin put it, "get his hits in". He hesitated for half a second before landing a punch across his face, and then another and another. When the two players let go of his arms, he fell to the ground and made no move to get back up.

"Get up, Detweiler. I'm not done with you yet." Austin gave him a kick to his head. Still no response. "C'mon! Get up short shit!"

Still nothing.

"Shit, is he still alive?" One of the other players asked. Austin grabbed his hair and pulled his head up.

"Fuck. I'm getting the hell out of here," Austin said. He dropped his head and left, with his friends following close behind, leaving the 7th grader in the mud. Vince looked back, stopping for just a moment, but following the others soon after.

#

"Like, ew."

Ashley huffed and finished reapplying her lipstick while looking in the bathroom mirror. She thought she managed to get the whole bathroom to herself. Girl bathrooms were notorious for being crowded rooms filled with gossip and mystery (from the boys perspective). But that was proving to not be the case as Ashley A. stepped into the restroom, without her clique, luckily, at least.

"Can't you go find another bathroom? Someone as popular and important as me shouldn't have to share a bathroom with someone as lame as you," Ashley A. said with her hands on her hips.

"If you don't like it, you're free to leave. I can use this one if I want," she snapped back.

"Whatever. Just get out of my way." Ashley A. elbowed her from in front of the mirror, though there was plenty of mirror space for the both of them. "I don't know why you're wasting time putting makeup on. No amount of concealer will fix that face."

Ashley huffed, but reached into her back pocket.

"You know Ashley A., someone like you would do well to stop bothering people who could ruin your entire reputation," Ashley said.

"What are blabbing on about, you social reject?" Ashley A.

"I'm talking about how much time you spend with high school boys. I know you always wanted to be cool, but I thought you were a little classier than that."

Ashley A. stopped her makeup applying and turned to the former fourth member of her clique. In her hand, she held out a picture. Though a picture's worth a thousand words, she was left speechless about what it showed. Her climbing out of a high schoolers car. She snatched it out of Ashley's hand and ripped it to shreds.

"You don't actually think I just have one of these pictures, do you?" Ashley mocked. "You underestimate me, Ashley A. But then again, you always have."

"What do you want, you sneaky little bitch?"

"Nothing much. Just for you and your little brainless followers to leave me the hell alone," said Ashley. "I'm sure you can manage that, considering the circumstances."

Ashley A. huffed and stomped out of the bathroom. It was safe to say that that was a win.

#

When he finally came to, it was to the sound of a whistle being blown on the field, though it sounded like it was miles away. He spat out blood and managed to sit on the grass. His head was killing him, and it felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to his forehead from the inside.

He touched his face and his fingers brushed across dried blood. Of course. What else? He needed to clean himself up and get home. He checked his watch. Halfway through kickboxing practice. Just great. Slowly, he got onto his feet, but wavered when he was hit with nausea and dizziness.

He hurled, emptying his stomach, and stumbling back a few steps when he was able to take a breath. This was worse than he thought. Definitely get home. His mom was a nurse, she'll take care of this. Getting out of the mud, he started the long walk home, wanting to get there quick, but knowing that moving too fast would make his nausea even worse, along with the added pain just above his stomach.

Once home, he called out for his parents and barely avoided landing on the floor in front of the couch instead of the couch itself.

"TJ? What in the world happened to you?" His mother asked, rushing out of the kitchen. His father followed close behind. She didn't get an answer other than a few groans.

He wavered even as he sat, and his mother left his side for a moment to grab her first aid kit.

"Oh, dear. . .we have to take him to the hospital," she said.

"You think it's that bad?" His father asked. She nodded.

"Yes, I can tell by his eyes that he has a concussion. A particularly bad one if he can't talk," she said. "We need to go now, Harold. This can be serious."

Her husband nodded, and helped TJ to the car.

#

The next couple of days went by in a blur that he was barely aware of. TJ tried to do more than lie in bed, but after a few steps, his mother was there to put him back in bed and gently scold him for doing anything except resting. It was only on the second day that he was able to think clearly enough to figure out what was going on.

He had some vague memories of a car ride and a hospital before completely blacking out. Then waking up in his room and falling asleep. Ugh.

He sat on the edge of his bed, and instead of stomach upsetting nausea, he just felt that odd 'I can get by but I'm still not 100%' that you'd feel once an illness was starting to subside. He could hear talking downstairs, and after being stuck in bed, he was ready to step out of his room.

Sasha walked with him, staying protectively by his side as he slowly walked down the stairs. Turning into the living room, he blinked to clear his blurring vision and saw Spinelli of all people sitting on his couch, looking irate, seeing an iron melting glare his way. He could hear his and her mothers talking in the kitchen. He walked past her on his way to the kitchen, but stumbled when she stuck her foot out as he passed. The sound of him stumbling caught the attention of the two adults in the kitchen.

"TJ, what are you doing out of bed?" His mother asked. "You're supposed to be resting."

". . Got tired of being in my room. . ." he said. "Hi, Mrs. Spinelli."

"Alright, well, go sit in the living room. I'll bring you something to eat," his mother said. He nodded and took a seat in the loveseat. Five seconds didn't pass until he was hit in the head with a decorative pillow.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Spinelli hissed. "Do you think it's funny getting us kicked off our teams?! I'm off the cheerleading squad because of you!"

"You mean because of you," he said. "You decided not to work on the project, so you got the grade you deserved."

"Are you serious? All of this for a stupid project?" She scoffed. Their conversation paused when his mother came out and handed him a chicken salad sandwich. "You're such a fucking loser."

He shrugged and took a bite.

"I've been called worse," he said.

"All you do is hang out with social rejects. A bunch of kids no one else wants to be around. Really, Randall and Menlo? You used to have standards. And you hang out with those creepy goth kids, too. What, are you one of them, now? I wouldn't be surprised. You already take pills. Do you cut yourself too, like some freak?"

"Try harder."

"I bet you're just doing it for attention. I bet your 'friends' doing even like being around you. We sure as hell didn't. They just pity you. Some pipsqueak who doesn't even look like he belongs in middle school and is fucking mental. All this for a stupid project. It's not like you have a life, so what difference did it make to you to do most of the work? We had things to do! I swear to god you better watch your back for this."

"You've lost your touch." The doorbell rang. Slowly, he stood up to keep his head from spinning and answered it. It was CJ.

"Hey, dude, you're up," she said. "You were kind of out of it the last couple of days, so I walked Sasha for you."

"Really? Thanks for that, CJ. 'Preciate it."

"No problem. Do you still need me to take her out?" she asked.

"Um. . .yeah. I'm still kinda dizzy, since I woke up a little while ago," he said. "If you don't mind."

"I don't. And when I come back we can hang out in your room," said CJ. She smirked, and TJ blushed.

"Y-yeah."

TJ called Sasha over, clipped on her leash, and handed it to CJ. After bringing his plate into the kitchen, he left Spinelli in the living room and headed back to his room. He spotted a small pile of papers on his desk that he was sure wasn't there before. After fingering through them, he saw that it was all homework he had from missing school for a few days. Of course.

Well, he still needed to get his head to stop aching, so maybe he'll get started on that tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

3.8

3.8

3.8

Gretchen had never seen a more retched, disgusting, stomach churning, deplorable number.

3.8

She wanted to tear the report card she held in her hands to shreds. It most likely would only put a dent in her frustration. This was no doubt the result of her reduced grade on that damn project in German class. It was the only reasonable explanation. Every other assignment in every other class was a beautiful 'A'. Except for that cursed B-.

"This is why I despise working in groups. There's always someone who drags you down," Victoria spoke.

Their group sat at their usual lunch table, report cards in hand. As everyone got their report cards first period, they made the promise to wait until lunch to open them. They all expected perfect 4.0's. They were the intellectual elites of the school, enrolled in the toughest classes, leaving the other students in the dust. And for the most part, they were correct. 4.0 after 4.0.

Until Gretchen read hers. She didn't know she could feel so much anger.

"It's alright, Gretchen. We know that it's not your fault," Susan said.

Whatever comfort could be found in those words fell on deaf ears. Gretchen forced herself to neatly fold the report card and place it in her bag. She would still need to show her parents, but at least she didn't have to stare at that atrocious GPA all day. Her parents would still be proud, but that was just it; they're her parents. A 3.8 was a noticeable blip on an otherwise perfect application to the prestigious private school across town.

She glared across the cafeteria where the cause of her problems sat, with his social rejects of friends. Of course he wouldn't understand the importance of grades, he never did. The nerve of some idiot like him to drag her down with him.

She took a deep breath to attempt to calm herself, though the effect was minimal. She needed to reasonable about this. She was above pettiness.

Right?

#

Despite her not being able to practice or perform with the rest of the team, Spinelli still attended practice, sitting on the benches and trying to memorize the new routine they started on today. She still needed to get her grades back up, but if she had some idea of what to expect when she's given the all clear then jumping back in would be easier. She hoped.

But that should be her on the top of that pyramid, getting flipped in the air. Too many of the other girls were too scared to be thrown that high, the cowards. What's the point in being a cheerleader if you didn't want to do flips? It was the only fun part about it.

Now she actually had to work at her grades. Getting some of the boys to do it turned out to be a shitty idea, they were really as dumb as they acted, and now her report card suffered because of it. She would've just skimmed by, though, if it wasn't for her grade on that damn German project. It made her want to punch a fucking wall. Or the person responsible for this.

God, he was such a self-righteous asshole. All he had to do what put together the damn board, but no, he had to be a fucking snitch. That dweeb Randall must be rubbing off on him to do some shit like this.

There was no way she was going to let this stand. Someone needed to knock him down a few pegs. But she couldn't get her hands dirty. So far, she hadn't gotten in trouble at all this school year, much to the surprise to her parents. Getting caught doing something to him could get her kicked off the cheerleading team for good, with no chance of getting back one. No, she needed someone else to do the dirty work.

She spotted Austin and some of his followers walk into the gym to get a look at the girls practicing. Well, that might problem might be solved.

#

Austin covered his mouth and he spray painted one of the theatre's backgrounds with black paint. His other cronies worked on some of the others. Those theatre kids were such losers, it's like they were asking for this. For all they know, this could be making things look better! Bunch of dancing, singing fags.

He stepped back and looked at his handiwork. Beautiful. You could barely tell whatever it was those theatre freaks tried to make of it. He gave it a number of kicks, leaving it dented and with a few holes. Trash. It was trash before and it's trash now. He patted his pockets until he found his pocket knife, and moved further behind the stage until he found the ugly costumes packed away.

Using his pocket knife, he ripped the costumes to shreds. He was doing them a favor. No one wanted to see a much of fruitcakes dance and prance around on stage. Besides, he was saving them from getting made fun of. Not from him, ha ha, hell no, he was still going to lay it on them, but from others. He was doing them a favor.

After they were all one, they left the auditorium. They still need to get rid of the evidence on their hands, and Austin knew the perfect way to do that.

"Justin, hurry up and break into his locker," Austin told one of his cronies.

It was after school, and there probably wasn't anyone around to catch them, but he wasn't going to take that chance. Justin carefully turned the lock to Detweilers locker until it opened with a simple tug. They shoved the spray cans into his locker and closed it. Austin wiped his hands on his locker door, getting some of the ink on it, just for good measure.

It's what the twerp fucking gets, embarrassing him like that in front of the whole school.

#

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Mikey woke up with the knowledge that it was him who earned the role of lead actor of the schools play, Hamlet. Him, not that smug Augustus. As it should be. Augustus' head was too big for his own good. Even though it's a month into rehearsals, it still feels wonderful to wake up knowing that. It made facing middle school just a little more bearable.

Arriving a school a bit earlier than the majority of the students, he headed towards the auditorium and met up with the other drama kids. They always met up with the head of the drama club to briefly go over what they will be doing during rehearsal after school.

But when he entered the auditorium, Mikey heard pained screaming from the back of the stage. When he made his way back stage, he saw one of his fellow artist and actresses, Amy, clutching her costume, a medieval dress, beautifully made, now in shreds.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Some vandal destroyed the set and our costumes," Augustus said.

A quick look around and he was the extent of the damage. The set was cruelly spray painted with several cruel words. It was hard to tell which was worse, the costumes or the background. The costumes were left in shreds. Their careful sewing and tailoring all gone to waste.

"You guys! They found who did it!" Amy said as she came running. They each followed her off stage and out of the auditorium. They weaved through the crowds, sticking together and stopping once Amy did. A number of teachers were around an open locker, pulling out cans of spray paint, and a pocketknife, it looked like. While a few teachers gathered the evidence, one confronted who the locker belonged to, TJ.

"I don't know how that got in my locker! It's not mine!" He protested.

"You're the only one who knows the combination to your locker. Either you put this stuff in here for the janitor did. You tell me which one is more likely," said the teacher.

"I don't know! Someone broke into my locker, that's how!" He said.

Once what was I his locker was taken, he was taken away, no doubt to the principals office.

Out of all the students in the school, it had to be him. Mikey was just thinking that we would start acting like a normal middle schooler but of course he wasn't. He still hung on to those immature actions that belonged in elementary school. He could almost pity him. Almost. They had to repair the stage set and costumes.

#

Spinelli impatiently tapped her food. Football practice ended a while ago, and she knew for a fact that all the football players walked through this path on their way home. She had places to be, she couldn't just wait around from dumb football player.

When she finally spotted him, she pulled him away from his little group.

"Oh shit. You finally come to your senses and decided you wanted to go out with me, Red?" Austin half joked.

"Can the crap, Austin. I need you to do something for me. And you're the only person I can think of who can do it and do it right," Spinelli said.

"Sorry, I don't do favors or just anybody, Red," he said. "You got it make it worth my while."

"Ugh. What do you want?"

"How about we discuss things in my office?"

His office turned out to be the space under a flight of stairs, Spinelli found out. It could've at least been a janitors closet, but she wasn't about to be too picky.

"So, what do you want, Red?"

"I need you to pull one of your stunts on TJ Detweiler. He pulled some bullshit in out German class that made my grade low enough to get me booted off the team," she said.

"Any what makes you think that I'd be willing to do it?"

"Oh, please. Everyone's seen how you target him the most. You're probably excited for another chance to do something to him now that you're being compensated for it."

"True. Alright, what do you have in mind? A rumor, a prank, or just a general beating the shit out of him? Gotta warn you, though. Me and my guys already knocked him out for LaSalle last week," said Austin.

"Something that makes him suffer."

"So a rumor then. Okay. What do you got on him?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Everyone knows you used to be friends with shortshit. You gotta have some dirt on him," Austin said. "Embarrassing secrets, dumb fears, something he doesn't want people to know."

"Oh."

"Look, Red. I got places I need to be. How 'bout you come back tomorrow with what I need, and we can talk?"

With that, Austin winked and headed out.

#

Vince thought he would feel better after it was done and over with. That what he told himself, it's what he reasoned in the middle of his anger and frustration, but now, Monday came, and he was having trouble telling himself that he got his revenge. If anything, it was making him more upset and frustrated.

Austin and his ground ganging up and beating the snot out of TJ certainly made him feel better after it happened. He slept just fine that night. It was what he got for pulling that bullshit with the project. And hell, if that fight with Austin in the park was anything to go by, he could take a hit, so what difference did it make?

It was hard to keep that thinking up the following Monday, though, when he came into school covered in bruises, stitches, and an eye swollen shut. He tried not to think about it. He got his revenge. It's over with.

#

Austin was having what he would call a good day. Beat up a couple of nerds, threw Short Shit into his locker, scored three touchdowns in practice, it was a great day to be him. And it was only going to get better with Red giving him for to torment that short little fuck with. Whoever said middle school was hard was damn liar.

He split off from his group for "personal business". Today was a great day.

"Excuse me. Austin, is it?"

He stopped when he heard his name. He looked around until he spotted what had to be one of those lame, nerdy kids who had no life at all. Too bad it's a chick. He was all for tossing a nerd in the garbage but doing it to a chick gets your into major trouble.

"Who wants to know?" He asked.

"Someone who needs to make use of your services."

Ugh. Austin almost cringed. Who actually talks like that?

"Yeah? Get in line," he said. "You're not the only one."

Austin continued his way to his 'office'. Part of him was surprised when Red was actually there, but she was.

"You got what I need, Red?" Austin asked.

"Yeah, yeah. You better write this down, because I'm not repeating myself," she said. "Got it?"

"Heh, yeah, sure, whatever."

"Excuse me, but what is all this about?" The geek asked.

"After that stupid project I got kicked off the cheerleading team," said Red. "It's all TJ's fault! And he's gonna pay for it! I can't believe this bullshit-!"

"That's why I'm here," said the Geek. "He ruined my perfect grade point average! There needs to be retribution."

"Great, now can I get what I need?" Austin said. "C'mon, I don't have all day."

"Austin's gonna destroy what's left on his reputation, we've just gonna give him some dirt to work with," said Red. "Over the summer I found out he took pills. For depression or something, I dunno, I don't remember. You can work with that, right? I think he owns a gun, too."

"It's just a BB gun, if my memory is correct. But that shouldn't matter," The geek added. "He's also severely claustrophobic."

"Might be gay. I came home from camp for like a week, and he can King Bob were hanging out. They were really close. Too close if you ask me. He's got these weird stuffed animals in his room. Huge ones, like the kind you'd win at a carnival? Those, like some chick. Kind of a nerd, too, with all those damn comic books."

"Back in elementary he had a penchant for committing pranks on others. If you could somehow shift the blame of some of those on others, that would be wonderful. If you really want to get under his skin, you would attack his group of friends. Better yet, find a way to break them up, that frustrates him the most."

Austin wrote down all the dirt he was getting on the short piece of shit that had the nerve to stand up to him. He was going to use all of this to drag that twerk through the dirt and back. It's what he gets. By the time he was done with shortshit, he'll be nothing.

#

Gus stayed quiet long after the three of them left the stairway. He had heard their entire conversation on his way home from a club meeting. They had no idea he was listening in, even if accidently. What should he do now? Should he tell a teacher? Or the principal? What if Austin found out it was him who snitched? Then all his bullying would be aimed at him.

It wasn't like anyone knew he heard them. If he just walked away and didn't say a thing, no one would know. Besides, he wasn't supposed to be there anyways. Nodding to himself, he decided to keep this to himself. They didn't mess with one of his group, so there wasn't anything he had to do.


	13. Chapter 13

Empty spray paint cans and a pocket knife were placed on Prickly's desk as the teachers around explained the situation at hand. TJ, the one being accused, sat at the chair in front of his desk, doing his best to defend himself.

"Can you all give me a moment to talk to him alone?" Principal Prickly asked. The teachers nodded, leaving the evidence behind. Once the door shut, TJ was finally able to defend himself without being chastised by the teachers.

"Principal Prickly, I have no idea how that stuff got in my locker, but it wasn't me!" He said. "Why would I do something like this out of nowhere? I haven't caused any trouble this whole school year!"

"I know, which makes dealing with this situation that much harder. It was found in your locker, which, in any case, is hard to argue against," said Prickly. "Detweiler, if you did this, this is the time to tell me."

"I didn't do it!"

"Alright. . .but since the evidence is stacked against you, I have to issue out some form of punishment," he said. "Normally, something like this would call for a suspension, but I'm going to try and go easy on you, since you haven't caused a ruckus this year. I'm assigning you to help repair the damage done to their set. I think they meet after school every day for an hour."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I believe you, but since everything is pointing in your direction, I have to do this. I'm sorry."

TJ huffed, resigning to his punishment. He'd rather find who framed him, but at least he didn't have to explain getting suspended to his parents. But an hour every day after school? That means he doesn't have any time for kickboxing. He groaned. How was he supposed to explain this one?

#

"That's bullshit, dude! Someone framed you and you get in trouble!"

Lunch was a well welcomed break. With his incoming punishment and drain of his time inching closer with every minute, TJ couldn't focus much in class. He couldn't say that he wanted the day to end, either, because that would mean marching off to the auditorium instead of somewhere he actually wanted to be.

"I know. But it's hard to prove that it wasn't you when everything was found in your locker," said TJ. "I gotta tell Kevin why I won't be in practice for a while. And my parents. They aren't gonna like this."

"You know, it might be hard to find out who framed you, but not impossible," said Randall. "I'm up for a challenge."

"It was probably Austin. The guy hates me, and I never did anything to him," he said. "It's like he doesn't have anything better to do but annoy me. But unless you can get a confession out of him, I'm screwed."

"Don't give up yet. I'm rusty but I still got it," said Randall. "I'll get an admission out of him."

"Good luck, man."

"So what are they making you do?" CJ asked.

"Clean up the sets for the theatre club after school," TJ said. "That means I can't make it to kick boxing until everything is fixed."

"Goddamn, dude. Wait, what if we volunteer to help out the theatre club? Then we can help fix things faster and get you out of there in no time!" She suggested.

"Wouldn't work. This is supposed to be a punishment. They probably won't let anyone help me," said TJ. "Thanks, though. I'll stop by after to tell Kevin what's up. Not like I would've been training for anything. . .Can we talk about something else?"

#

The auditorium was brighter than TJ imagined it would be. Already on the stage were the theatre kids and their director or whatever their title was, he didn't care. As he climbed on stage, a few of the kids sent heated glare his way, while the others ignored him outright. Great. Already off to a good start.

"So, um, I'm hear to fix whatever was broken, or whatever," he said, getting the attention of the director.

"Of course you are. Tell me, was it fun destroying the set we worked so hard on?" The director said.

"I dunno. It wasn't me."

"Sure it wasn't. The spray paint just happened to be in your locker. Could've happened to anyone." The director scoffed. "You'll be working on fixing the background first. There's so much covered that we might as well do the whole thing over again."

She waved to the pained cardboard backgrounds, which were covered in black spray paint. He could barely make out what it was supposed to be. A cityscape? A sky line? He was going to find out once he had to paint it himself.

"You're going to paint over it with white paint until it's even. After that, you'll work with the costume designers on fixing the damage done to our costumes," said the director. "You've got your work cut out for you, kid. I hope all this was worth it."

TJ signed and grabbed the can of paint and roller.

#

Walking home, TJ was ready to call it a day, lock himself in his room, and mope. His clothes were spotted with white paint, and the tips of his fingers ached from the numerous times he stuck himself with a needle. Christ. And he wasn't anywhere close to finished.

As soon as he stepped off of school property, he pulled out the pack of cigarettes Colten tossed to him and took one out. Part of him hated using these things, but he couldn't deny that they made him feel better, and dammit, he needed something to make him relax after all the crap from today.

Theatre kids and their snide comments behind his back. You'd think that being theatre kids, close to the bottom of middle school hierarchy, would mean they wouldn't do any of the picking on that the popular students did, but you'd be wrong. A bunch of snobs, they were. How many times they 'accidently' bumped into him, making get paint on his clothes and skin, or 'accidently' tossing a prop at his head.

He took another drag. Middle school is bullshit. Middle schoolers are trash.

"TJ? Is that a cigarette?"

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice that he was getting close to home and that he needed to ditch the cigarette. Instead, he walked right in front of his house with it, and his father just so happened to be stepping out of his car.

"Um, no?" He said, weakly, tossing it away.

"Yes it is! Get in the house right now! I can't believe you're smoking!"

TJ sighed, and marched inside. No use trying to fabricate a story for this one. He was too tired to do so, anyways. His father tightly gripped his shoulder, taking him into the kitchen where his mother was already working on dinner.

"I caught TJ smoking," his dad said.

"Smoking?" His mom almost yelled. "TJ! We told you about smoking and how bad it is for you! Why in the world would you do it?"

"I dunno. . ."

"You must have a reason. After everything we taught you about this! You can't do kickboxing while smoking, TJ. You won't be able to breathe properly."

"It doesn't matter."

"What?"

"I said it doesn't matter! I'm not going to be kickboxing! I was too short to be in the tournament, anyways! So what if it stunts my growth, it's not like I was getting any taller!"

"TJ, you are growing. Just a little slower than the other kids," his father said.

"No I'm not. I'm just as tall as I was in fourth grade."

"TJ—"

"No! Why can't I smoke if it cams me down more than those stupid pills?"

"That's enough, TJ," his father said. He huffed, and leaned back in his chair. Yet another thing he wasn't going to win today. "Hand them over."

TJ reached into his jacket, and pulled out the rest of the pack.

"Is this all of it?" His father asked.

"Yeah."

"You aren't lying, are you?"

"No."

"You know better than to smoke, TJ," his mom said. "You're grounded for two weeks. You come right home after school."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"Someone framed me for destroying the theatre clubs set. They stuffed the cans into my locker, so I have to stay after school to fix it," he said. That wasn't going to sound good no matter how he worded it. "You can call Principal Prickly if you don't believe me. Even he doesn't think I did it, but the evidence is stacked against me."

He heard his parents sigh as his eyes were trained on the floor. TJ was sent to his room until dinner, and he was happy to be alone again. He tossed his backpack aside; homework could wait until later. He grabbed his CD player, headphones, and lounged out. Who knows when his father would be up to strip his room of anything he could enjoy himself with.

He could really use a cigarette.

#

The chuckling from other students as he entered school didn't stand out much t TJ. They were always laughing in their groups about something. New rumors or gossip, or something happening at school later on. He didn't bother trying to get into it all, or faking interest.

He was lost in his own thoughts, not planning on getting out of them until he met up with his friends. He didn't notice that the whispers were accompanied by pointing fingers in his direction. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he was roughly bumped into.

"Watch where you're going, fag."

Not unfamiliar with middle school insults, TJ ignored him and headed for his locker. The sooner he could get home, the better. The day couldn't end soon enough, in his opinion. But he could tell it was going to be a slow day. When he woke up, he didn't feel like he was in his own body. It was like he was watching himself go through the motions. Wake up, deliver papers, walk Sasha, shower, get dressed, get to school, same routine he adapted to over the last few months. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of being out of his body, though. They happened rarely over the summer, but were picking up in frequency.

Those days tended to go by the slowest.

Unattached to his body, he didn't notice the stares and laughs thrown his way as he walked into third period. It was only during the lecture when the teacher was turned to the board and someone tossed a ball of paper at his head that he snapped back into his body. TJ let out a big sigh, a bit overwhelmed at the sudden mental sensation, blinked and rubbed his eyes. He picked up the balled-up paper and opened it. Written on the inside was a whole list of insults.

"dumbass"

"fucking psycho"

"piece of shit"

"fag"

"freak"

And plenty more, but he didn't read past the first few. He crumpled the paper up again.

Wonderful.

#

Between the depersonalization and not wanting to be anywhere but home, TJ let his mind wander as he gave the theatre background another coat of white paint. Whatever musical number they were rehearsing sounded a good distance away as he got lost in his thoughts. His computer was gone, or just the monitor, making the rest of it useless. So was his comic books, and anything else he could enjoy. Except his CD player, he managed to hide that under the loose floorboard under his bed.

It'll be a while before he could go out to abandoned buildings again. What else was there for him to do to keep himself from going crazy with boredom? Homework?

Sleep? Sleep sounded nice, after today. Everyone decided he was going to be their target of making fun of. Most of he could block out, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to end anytime soon. Hopefully someone else would be the victim of something embarrassing and take the attention off of him.

With a new coat of paint, TJ hammered the paint can closed and brought back the supplies to a closest behind the stage. There was still time before rehearsal was over, so he wasn't leaving until then. The director pointed him towards the co-director, who was working with the costumes that were damaged. He was told to sit at a table with a sewing machine, and was given fabrics to sew.

By the time he was done, two and a half costumes were restored, and he couldn't wait to get home and listen to some music. He couldn't even work on his comic with his sketchbook taken away.

"I hope it was all worth it you fucking psycho freak," one of the theatre kids, some guy dressed in a really old styled costume, said. He changed out of his costume and haphazardly tossed it towards TJ. "Now we're behind because of you. Most of us don't even want you here. We'd fix everything faster if you were out of our way."

"Ew, don't talk him," one of the other actors said. "I know we're theatre junkies but we're still steps up from him. Have some standards."

The two of them laughed before heading out, leaving him to put away the costumes.

#

2 am, and TJ was wondering if insomnia was going to join the long list of symptoms that came along with the depression. Even with the lights off and every possible distraction put away, he laid in bed, wide awake, unable to fall asleep.

He rolled over and reached down to see if Sasha was still there. She was, and was sleeping. He was jealous. If only he could keep his mind hoping from one thought to another. Now that he wasn't hovering outside his own body, he was able to process everything that happened at school. The name-calling, the pointing fingers, the heated stares, part of it was getting to him. He told himself that it was only middle school junk and didn't want to give them the satisfaction of showing it affecting him in anyway, but they really focused in on him today.

Maybe it was still left over from the fight. No one was expecting him to leave Austin bleeding with a broken nose, after all. Of course middle school logic reasoned that he was some kind of psychopath because of that.

Whatever.

All he wanted to do was lay low after what happened with his old friends, but it was like everything was working against it. Was it too much to ask to be left alone?


	14. Chapter 14

Lunch didn't come fast enough, in TJ's opinion. Since he stepped into school, he couldn't catch a break. Hateful words being thrown his way that was getting harder to ignore and brush off, Austin shoving him out his way and against his locker whenever they crossed paths, which seemed to be every time classes changed, and the student body moving to avoid him like he had the plague. The only saving grace for the day was that he was almost done with the repairing of the theatre club's stuff, and he would probably be done with it today.

The sooner he could get away from school, the better.

"You don't look so good, man," Randall commented.

"I haven't been sleeping well the last couple of days. And today isn't helping," TJ said. "I just want to get home and go to sleep."

"You sure you don't want me to dig up anything on Austin for you? It can get him off your back real quick," he offered. TJ shook his head. Not feeling hungry, he pushed his lunch tray aside and laid his head in his arms. Sleeping was all he was really interested in lately. Understanding his frustration, the others let him get what little rest he could before lunch was over.

"So, um, is there anything exciting happening soon, Menlo? You and Randall get to know things before the rest of the students, right?" Ashley asked.

"That's right. There's a dance coming up in a month, but we don't plan on announcing that in the paper and putting up fliers for another week. They want to make it a big deal, having students help pick out the theme and decorate," Menlo explained. "That's about it, really."

"You can wear and show off one of your dresses, Ashley!" CJ said.

"You think so?" Ashey asked.

"Yeah1 They look great, and you've made plenty to choose from. I'll help you pick one out."

As much as talking to his friends would help get his mind off of things, TJ opted for staying out of this conversation for a small nap. After lunch he would have to deal with barrage of bullshit being sent his way, so he wanted to enjoy this break for as long as he could.

#

Walking out of the auditorium for the last time, TJ was glad he didn't have to go back there. He served his (wrongfully given) time, and was free to go. Though he was still grounded, at least he wasn't stuck around more students who had a handful of snide comments to throw his way. Part of him wanted to dust off his pranking skills to get revenge, but he decided not to. Not worth the risk.

After walking Sasha, he went straight for his room, with Sasha right behind him. He tossed his back bag on his desk chair. That could wait to be done. He wanted to forget about school and everything related to it.

Austin had dragged him under a staircase between classes to use as his and his friends personal punching bag. That particular staircase wasn't used often, and if there were any students actually using them, they turned a blind eye. They punched and kicked, leaving him spotted with bruises from the neck down. Maybe they knew anything on the face would get spotted by a teacher.

At some point Austin pulled away and grabbed his backpack. He dumped everything on the floor before kicking, stepping, and ripping pages out of his note and textbooks. When the bell rang, they ran out, leaving him on the filthy floor, aching. He pulled himself up and stuffed the books and papers into his bag. Hopefully he would miss any teachers in the halls looking for students skipping class.

One of the papers Austin ripped was his homework, and he couldn't turn it in, meaning a hit to his grade. But lately, he couldn't bring himself to care anywhere near as much as he did at the beginning of the school year.

He turned over and noticed the pick stuffed rabbit Robert won for him over the summer sitting on his shelf. He grabbed it and held it over his head. Summer was great. If he could, he would go back, when it was just him, Robert, CJ, Menlo, and Randall just hanging out, not doing much of anything while everyone else was away at summer camp.

"I wish I could talk to Robert. He would know what to do," he said. "He's probably too busy with school to deal with my problems."

He hugged the stuffed animal close, soaking in what small comfort it brought.

#

TJ might've turned down his offer, but Randall felt something akin to a moral obligation to find some dirt on Austin. That jerk wasn't letting up, and he needed to be knocked down a peg. It didn't take much to figure out that he was behind all the teasing and name calling being thrown TJ's way.

So he followed Austin after school, keeping a safe distance and staying hidden. He really didn't want to get tossed in a trash can. Again

He watched Austin separate from the rest of the football team and walk back into the school. He walked up to the double doors and listened for any sound before following inside. Hearing voices, he listened in.

"Alright, I did my end of the deal, hand over the money!" That was definitely Austin.

"All you I was start a few rumors! I could've done that myself!" "We spread rumors all the time!"

"Look, Red, you paid for rumors, you get rumors. And now no one wants to be around him," said Austin. "What did you expect me to do?"

"More than that! Something embarrassing, something humiliating! I didn't pay you to do what you always do!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you weren't specific about it! Don't get mad at me 'cause you didn't make it clear what you wanted!" Austin shouted. "So what, do you two have a problem with the job I did, too? Speak up!"

Randall didn't hear any new voices, and for a moment, considered peaking in to see who else was a part of this conversation.

"I believe what she's saying that we expected the damage done to be greater." Randall recognized Gretchen's voice. "Everything you've done, it looks like he' able to just ignore it and not let it bother him."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Even when it's more than one person, he's able to brush it off. I've seen it up close." Randall knew that was Blumberg speaking.

"So what, you wanted me to run him out of school?" Austin asked. "Because that's gonna cost extra."

Randall glanced inside just to make sure who he was hearing was right, before heading out of there. He was honestly surprised that LaSalle wasn't in there with him. He saw him hang around Austin more often than not. Was it surprising that some of TJ's old friends went out of their way to make things difficult for him? No. It was somewhat expected, given how they acted last school year. The real question is how far they were willing to go.

#

"How have you been feeling lately, TJ?"

The calmness of Dr. Sages office was making it close to a second home, in TJ's opinion. If he could come here after school he would at least half of the time.

He answered Dr. Sage's question with a shrug. He didn't feel like answering questions. Or talking, really.

"How's school?"

He shrugged again.

"Is that student who's been bullying you still at it?"

". . .yeah."

"Have you told the teachers?"

"Like they'd believe me," TJ said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true. Austin framed me for what he did, and no one would listen to me. I stand up for myself when he messes with me in the hallway, and the teachers only see what I did. They don't care that won't leave me alone. What I did was 'just as bad' apparently," he said. "I hate school."

"Have you told your parents?" he asked.

TJ shook his head. "They already worry about me too much."

"I think this is something they would want to know about, TJ. It's their job to worry about you."

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Alright. How have you been sleeping?"

"I dunno. I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep."

"That's no good. Has there been any changes lately?" Dr. Sage asked.

"I had to stop going to kickboxing for a while because Austin framed me or something he did. And no one wants to believe me, so I was stuck cleaning up the mess after school," TJ said. "I was stuck with a bunch of snobby theatre kids for 90 minutes, who all think they're better than everyone else. Gimme a break. . .And I got grounded."

"For the same reason you got in trouble at school?"

"No, they caught me smoking on my way home," he said. "I'd usually finish before I get home, but I was lost in my thoughts."

"Smoking? TJ, you know smoking's bad for you? How did you get your hands on cigarettes? They can't sell them to minors."

"I know a guy."

"Kickboxing is going to get a lot harder if you're smoking, and it can stunt your growth—'

"I know, I know! God. . .it just helps me relax, is that so bad? Everything going on at school is just so frustrating, this is something that helps me forget about things for a few moments," he said. "I know it's bad for me. But it's not like I'm going to be able to do it anymore with my parents on my back about it."

"If you're having anxiety, it's important that you tell us."

"I don't have anxiety. I have a bully on my back."

#

There was something about doctors offices that was off to TJ. Maybe it was how they all looked the same, or how impersonal they looked. He was never excited to go for a check-up. There was a reason for him to be optimistic for this particular visit.

His parents finally brought him in for another check-up about his height. Now after a full physical, he and his mother were waiting for the doctor to come in to tell them what they found, if anything. Maybe there was a reason he was still so short that they could fix. He was still holding on to that hope.

"Hello," The doctor greeted when he came in. He held a folder filled with papers. "Sorry I took so long, our computers are running slow today for some reason.'

"So we did the full physical, got the blood work back from a few days ago as per your request, we usually don't do blood tests on kids unless there's a concern, and from the looks of things, there's nothing wrong! We did discover that you have an extra Y chromosome, though, but that's nothing to worry about, really. Which is good news, you're perfectly healthy in that regard, but you were concerned about your height.

"Your height is a bit abnormal for your age, of course. It's in the bottom percentage of you age group and is barely staying on the charts. We would look for underlying reasons in these cases, like hormones, an underactive thyroid gland, nutrient intake, but you're all clear on those. You did grow an inch since the last time you were here, though. . ."

"Doctor, me and my husband have been doing research, what about growth hormones?" His mother asked. "Would those make a difference?"

"A negatable one. On average we see a one to two inch growth with growth hormones. That might seem like a big difference with his height right now, but whether or not those couple of inches are because of nature taking its course or the hormones is still up for debate," said the doctor. "Plus the procedure involves invasive injections, can cost upwards of 30,000 dollars, the question comes if it's really worth it."

"So there's nothing I can do about it," TJ mumbled. "I'm stuck like this?"

"No, no, of course not," the doctor said. "This is just a simple case of constitutional delay."

"What?"

"A late bloomer. Based on your family medical records, this isn't anything out of the ordinary for this family. So what I would suggest. . .drink some pediasure? It'll give you a boost in nutrients and might kick start things. That's all I recommend at this point. I know being this height is frustrating, but all signs point to you just being a late bloomer. You'll shoot up like a weed sooner or later."

After leaving the doctors office and stopping at the store to pick up some pediasure of all things (seriously, wasn't that stuff for little kids? He was short but goddamn), TJ retired to the living room couch. So much for that.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart. I know it's hard, but you'll get taller, I promise," he heard his mother say. "How about we work on planning your bar mitzvah, huh? It's been a while since we worked on things, and it's coming up in a few months."

Right. That. He had forgotten all about his bar mitzvah, what with everything going on. He pushed himself off the couch and followed his mother into the kitchen.

"We already set a date two years in advance down at the synagogue, so we don't have to worry about scheduling issues. We were lucky enough that your birthday this year falls on a Saturday," she said. "Do you know how many friends you want to invite?"

"Just nine or ten," he mumbled.

"Are you sure? This is a big party, you can invite a lot of friends," his mother said. "Alright, if you're sure. How about a theme? There's a lot we could do there."

"Can it be space themed?"

There was still a lot to figure out, what flavor of cake to get, what food to have serve, and other junk. There was still a few months before then, so TJ wasn't in a rush to figure out all the details. He knew his mom was trying to get his mind off of what he was told at the doctor, but he just wanted to be alone for the rest of the day. When his father came home, he headed upstairs and curled up on his bed.


	15. Chapter 15

TJ liked to think that even the most despicable people, most of the time, had their limits, lines even they wouldn't cross, but that belief was increasingly being tested in the hell that was middle school. He stood in front of his locker the following Monday, staring at what was spray painted on the locker. An ugly, bone chilling swastika, all for him. There wasn't any question who had did it. Who else held that much hate and vitriol toward him?

He sighed. Part of him wanted him to feel rage, angry, anything. But all he could feel was exhaustion. He opened his locker and grabbed his books. He was going to be late for class. He'll talk to Prickly about this later.

"TJ! TJ, I need to talk to you," Randall said as he caught up with him.

"Can it wait until lunch? I'm kinda tired right now," he said.

"Oh, um, yeah, I guess. But it's really important, okay?" Randall said. TJ nodded. With their classes in the same direction, they walked together. But that brief moment of peace was interrupted by Austin tripping him as he passed, causing him to fall hard and sending his books sliding across the floor. Austin continued his way, laughing with his cronies.

"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Randall asked. He helped TJ get his books and papers, while other students continued on their way, only moving to avoid him and his stuff. "Someone needs to teach him a lesson."

"Just forget about it, Randall. I just want to get to class," TJ mumbled. "I'll see you later."

He looked down at the three questions in front of him. If he had done the reading, they would've been simple enough to answer, but he didn't know what to write down. The best he could do was make a guess. Or maybe he should just leave it blank.

In the end, leaving it blank won out, and he passed the small sheet of paper forward with only his name. It wasn't the first time, but it was probably taking a toll on his grade. He needed to catch up on his reading, for this class and others.

Just thinking about how behind he was in everything was giving him a headache. Math homework that was overdue, along with science, history, and even German assignments though that was his easiest class.

Ugh.

"What'd you want to talk to me about?"

Wanting to spend some time alone with his thoughts, TJ opted for going outside for lunch, away from the crowd of students. Behind the school was perfect, away from any students, or teachers who might tell him to go back inside. The weather was starting to cool, but it was still warm enough to be outside comfortably with a light jacket, or without, depending on preference.

"I did some snooping on Austin," Randall said. "I wanted to know why he has it out for you so bad, 'cause you know, he's been on your back since school started. I know you told me not to, but I had to do something. I followed him after school and he met up with part of your old group. I don't know for how long, but they were talking about making things hard for you here."

TJ sighed and leaned back.

"I would say I'm surprised but I'd be lying," he said. Great. Just great.

"Are you, uh, gonna do anything about it?" Randall asked. "Whip up one of those plans of yours?"

"I'm too tired, Randall. I can't even think straight for longer than a few seconds," TJ said. "I couldnt cpme up with a plan, even if I wanted to. Thanks for telling me, but I just want to be alone right now."

Randall nodded and headed back inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts. On his way back to the cafeteria, he passed Colten, who was heading in the direction he was coming from. Colten walked until he was outside. It only took a second for him to find who he was looking for.

"Detweiler." Colten joined him on the steps. "You okay?" TJ shook his head. "Didn't think so. I figured as much after seeing what that asshole did to your locker." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "But the twins took care of it. It's covered up. Can't even tell it was there in the first place."

"Thanks."

Colten nodded. "I can tell you've got a lot on your mind. I've got something that can help that."

"It's not more cigarettes, is it? I got grounded for having the pack you gave me."

He shook his head. "Nah, this is different. But you're going to have to wait until Friday. Can you do that?"

"I guess. It's getting hard to get through the day, though," TJ said. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise, but it' something that always helps me 'reset' my mind," said Colten. ''Ask your parents if you can sleep over my house on Friday, it'll be easier that way."

"Alright. I hope they'll let me after getting grounded last week."

When the bell signaling the end of lunch rang, they headed back inside.

Meanwhile, Randall made his way back inside and to the table where the others sat. He didn't know what he excepted to happen when he told TJ about what he found out, but he didn't expect that. That sort of defeat when you realize that you can't do anything to fix a situation.

"What's the matter Randall?" Menlo asked.

"I found out some stuff," Randall said.

"About what?" Ashley asked.

"About why Austin's been an ass. More so than usual," he said. "I did some good old fashioned snooping on the guy, and found out that a few of his old friends have been feeding Austin stuff to use against him. Real grimy."

"Christ."

"What the hell is their deal? He didn't do anything to them!" said CJ. "Is that what you went to go tell him?" Randall nodded. "So what'd he say?"

"He said he wasn't surprised, but that he's too tired to do anything about it, anyways, and that he can't even think straight," he said. "He's not going to do anything, I guess."

"But we can't just stand by and let this happen, right?" Menlo asked. "There's typical teasing, and then there's what Austin does."

"I'll try talking to him," said CJ. "There's gotta be something we can do."

Getting back to kickboxing, TJ wasn't feeling as enthusiastic about it as he did before. He punched away at the punching bag, trying to get used to the motions again after being out of it. Pretending it was Austin's face helped. While everyone as still training for the tournament, he was getting back to the basics.

His muscles ached as he used them the same way for over a week. Maybe the soreness and tiredness will leave him tired enough to fall asleep despite his insomnia.

When was the tournament again? In a few weeks, if he remembered right. Though he wasn't on the team, he still wanted to be there for support, mostly for CJ. Would he be a good boyfriend if he didn't show up to support her? He needed to mark the date on his calendar when he got home

Ugh. The thought reminded him on dinner, and the pediasure his mother wanted him to have with every meal. It wasn't quite as thick as a smoothie, uncomfortably watery but not quite the same feeling as water, and a little gritty. It was better to just down the hole bottle in one go than spread it out so the food gets rid of the taste.

At least she didn't make him bring a bottle to school to drink at lunch. That'd just give Austin more fuel to see against him.

After practice he started his usual way home with CJ again.

"You've gotten better the last time I saw you at practice," he said as they settled on the bus home. "Try not to beat up who ever you go up against too hard."

"No promises," she said. "How's it feel to be back? Feeling sore?"

TJ nodded. "I'm just gonna soak in the tub as long as I can. My arms are throbbing."

"It'll be okay. It's not like you're starting out fresh," she said. "Give it a few days."

As the bus turned the corner, CJ spoke up again.

"So, um, can I talk to you about something?" CJ asked.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"Randall told us about your old friends feeding Austin info to use against you," said CJ. "Are you sure you don't want to get back at them? Or at least tell a teacher to make Austin leave you alone?"

TJ shrugged. "They aren't going to leave me alone no matter what I do. I even beat the crap out of him and he's still on my back. I'm getting pretty good at ignoring him, anyways."

". . .If you say so, dude. But don't forget, we're here for ya."

"Yeah, I know."

Late Friday night, TJ would rather lose his thoughts in drawing or working on another page of his comic, but this time, he was waking up in the middle of the night. He stretched before finding his shoes and putting on his jacket. Colten was adamant about him getting to sleep early so he could be awake for what he wanted to show him this late.

"Ready?" Colten asked from his seat on the edge of his bed. He wore his own jacket with the hood pulled over his head. TJ nodded, and followed him out.

"What time is it?" TJ asked.

"1:30," Colten said. "Perfect."

For what, TJ wanted to see. He followed Colten outside and down the streets. He pulled his own hoodie up, as it was raining slightly, but not enough to leave his hoodie soaked. It must've been ten minutes before Colten stopped.

"Look," he said. "Take it all in, Detweiler."

At first, TJ didn't know what he was talking about. It was just a chilly empty street. Everyone was at home and in bed, probably, leaving the city eerily silent. The only sound was the drizzle coming down. But. Then it clicked.

The silence. The rushing sound of the small stream of rainwater flowing on the edge of the sidewalks into the gutters. The raindrops hitting the pavement, and the small amount of light reflecting off of the water from what few lights still remained on from the businesses around. When they walked, he could hear their dull footsteps and gravel crunching beneath their feet. And it was just the two of them, alone in the silence of the normally loud and busy city.

It was. . .

Peaceful.

Soothing.

Relaxing.

Refreshing.

When was the last time he felt those things? It's been too long.

"It's great, isn't it?" Colten asked. "No one is around. It's like the world resets. You can just not think about anything. Take in the sounds and just relax."

TJ nodded. This was much better than the calmness that came with exploring abandoned buildings. He led the way through the city, not going in any particular direction, rather, just letting his feet lead him to where ever. Colten followed, knowing the way back to his place from any point in the city.

The buildings reaching into the sky, the occasional star he could see from a part in the hazy clouds. He was able to let his mind be blank.

When they made it back to Colten's place, it was close to 3:30 am. They swapped their wet clothes for dry ones and sat by his window. Neither of them were quite tired enough to go to sleep, so they opted for staying up for a little while longer. Colten lit a few of the candles on his jacket rather than turning on the bright lights, and they settled in.

"Thanks for that," TJ said. "I would've never thought that being in the city in the middle of the night could calm you down, and I really needed that."

"No problem. You looked like you could use a night like this," Colten said. "The rain made it even better."

"How'd you even find out about this sort of thing?"

Colten shrugged. "I got bored one night and decided to take a walk. After that it sort of became a habit whenever I needed to clear my head. If you liked that, you should come with us to this place us goth kids hangout, everyone there is pretty relaxed."

"But I'm not goth. I think I already told you," TJ said.

"I know, but you're still welcome to come," Colten said. He pulled out one of his cigarettes. "The offers there."

The two of them stayed up until dawn, when they started to finally become sleepy again. Colten closed his shades and curtains, letting them sleep in darkness. After waking up later that morning, they scrambled up a breakfast before settling back in Colten's room, with Colten in one of his books and TJ drawing in his sketchbook, drafting the next page of his comic.


	16. Chapter 16

The cheering of the crowd was almost deafening with how excited everyone was for the kids stepping in the ring to beat the ever-loving crap out of each other. Though he wasn't one that as getting in, still being on the team allowed TJ to sit with them, and of course he was going to take that opportunity to cheer his girlfriend on. Nearby, Menlo, Ashley, and Randall at, cheering her on as well.

Their team was winning, but getting ahead by a few more points wouldn't be so bad. After an exchange of punches and kicks, CJ had her opponent on the floor. When the referee counted to ten and her opponent didn't pick themselves off the floor, she was declared the winner of the match.

She climbed out of the ring and joined the rest of her team. A round of high fives were in order before the next round and opponents stepped in the ring.

"You did great!" TJ said when she sat on the nearby bench. "I hope the other guy is gonna be okay."

"He'll be fine, just a little bruised ego from getting knocked out by a girl," CJ teased. "I think we've got this tournament in the bag! We only lost 1 of our matches."

After few more matches, including a couple of close ones, they team ended up walking away with a win. The fighters were given their own smaller trophies, and a larger one meant to be displayed at the community center.

Zzzz

"I think we should tell someone."

CJ didn't like the feeling of going behind her friends back, especially her boyfriends back, but her concern for his wellbeing made her push past that. She called Menlo, Ashley, and Randall over to her house to talk about the situation.

"But TJ said he didn't want us to," said Ashley.

"I know, but I think this is one of those things that we should do anyways," said CJ. "Austin's sure as hell isn't gonna stop anytime soon. And I know he said he's fine but I know it's bothering him."

"So what do you think we should do?" Menlo asked.

"I'd say prank 'em, but I don't think that'll lead to anything good," CJ said. "Randall, do you have any dirt on the guy?"

"Ugh, no. He's a typical son of rich parents, spoiled brat, golden boy. He's too stupid to have dirt," Randall said. "Fucking boring."

"Then. . . .we tell someone. A teacher or the principal. Dude's on the football team, they aren't going to let someone who's known to be a bully still play on their team, right?"

"Right. They don't want players to get in trouble," said Menlo. "But I think we're overlooking one crucial factor.'

"What?"

"All other attempts to make Austin stopped not only failed, but made him increase his bullying. If we do alert a teacher on his behavior, then he's only going to make things worse for TJ," he said. "We're the only students that would tell someone, so Austin would take it out on him."

"Shit, you're right."

"Couldn't we do it anonymously?" Ashley asked. "Just leave a note taped on the door, and the teacher will see it."

"Even if it's anonymous, Austin will still make the assumption it was either TJ or one of us who told," said Menlo. "Even if he didn't have any proof."

"Because Austin isn't the kind of person to care much about proof," CJ groan. "Ugh."

"So we aren't telling?" Ashley asked.

"I didn't say that,' she said. "Maybe getting kicked off the football team will make him stop? Isn't he the captain? he'd hate getting knocked off his throne."

"I'd say there's only 50 percent chance of him stopping with that plan, no offense," said Menlo.

"I don't want to say it but I think we might have to take that chance, if there's a chance of making it stop."

Zzzz

Of course, this was going to happen. How could he have thought it wouldn't? With how he kept falling behind in his homework? He poked at his dinner, not particularly hungry for yet another day. Still, his parents would notice if he didn't eat anything, so he took sparse bites.

"TJ, we got a call from your teachers about your grades," his mother said during dinner. "You were doing so well at the beginning of the year, but lately your grades have dropped off. They say you've been turning in your homework late or not at all.'

"Are you having trouble with what they're teaching? We can get a tutor to help you if that's the case," his father said.

"I understand what they're teaching," he said. "I just. . .I dunno."

"Are you having trouble concentrating?"

TJ nodded. That was putting it lightly. When was the last time he focused on something long enough to get something done? He couldn't even focus enough to get a single page done on his comic, it's been too long.

God, this conversation was going to lead to another impromptu visit to Dr. Sage, wasn't it?

"I'll pull my grades up, okay? I've just be distracted. There's been a lot of stuff going on," he said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His mother asked. "You know you can come to us with anything, TJ."

"I know. It's really dumb. I'm thinking too much about it," he said, trying to downplay the issue. "Just middle school junk."

ZZZ

While he would usually take any chance to get out of the classes he shared with any of his old friends, TJ would rather that reason not be because he was called to the principals office. With only a few minutes left in his current class, he grabbed his books before heading down the quickest path to Prickly's office.

Stepping inside, he didn't know what to expect, but he knew he didn't want Austin to be there, looking as if he was trying to make himself look less annoyed than what he really is as he sat in one of the seats in front of Prickly's desk.

"You wanted to see me, Principal Prickly?" TJ asked, sitting in the one remaining chair.

"I did. I wanted to see the both of you," said Prickly. "I want to discuss about something that's been brought to my attention concerning the two of you. It's been brought to my attention by an anonymous note that you, Austin, have been bullying TJ since the beginning of the school year."

"What? No, no!' Austin said, feigning shock.

"We take bullying seriously at this school, especially among our athletes, since we expect them to be one of the ways our school is represented," he warned. "And any bullying will be met with swift punishment and removal from any sports teams."

"I know, sir. But all I did was push him a few times. I didn't think that counted as bullying!"

"Is that true, TJ?"

The first thing that came to mind was just how good of a liar Austin was, but then again, you had to be a good liar to be a big of an asshole Austin was. He could tell Prickley about everything, and get Austin kicked off the football team, among many things. But he knew that whatever Austin would do to get back at him for it just make things worse for him. So,

"Yes, sir. He only pushed me a couple of times."

"Then I'll let you know off with a warning this time, Austin. But if I hear about this again, then you can say goodbye to your position on the football team. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Austin said.

"Alright. Now the two of you get back to class."

After beginning dismissed, TJ just wanted to get away from Austin as fast as possible, but it seemed like he had other plans, following him.

"What's the big idea, snitching on me?" Austin grabbed his upper arm and slammed him against the wall.

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"The hell you don't! You're trying to get me in trouble, is that it? What, you can't handle a bully so you snitch, like a pussy!" Austin said, shoving him into the wall again. "You think that's gonna stop me? I run things around here, short shit. You and your little band of rejects are lucky I just make the school think you're freak and not make them hate you! God, you're such a cockroach, no one wants you around. You might as well kill yourself, it's not like anyone will even notice! I swear to god if you ever try to pull some bullshit like this on me again, I'll-!"

"Whats going on in here?" Austin was cut off when a passing teacher overhearing him stepped in. He pulled Austin off of him. "What do you think youre doing?"

"I wasnt doing anything! We were just having aa little talk," Austin tried.

"That didnt look like a friendly talk to me," said the teacher. "You're coming with me. You," the teacher said to TJ. "Get to class."

When the teacher lead Austin away, Austin turned back and gestured a cutting motion across his neck as a warning of what he was going to do to get back at him.

ZZZZ

TJ spent his next class with his head on his desk. Whatever focus he managed to scrounge up earlier was gone after what happened with Austin. When lunchtime rolled around, he opted out of getting lunch altogether and laid his head on the table. Between his growing headache and stomach ache, he wasn't sure if he could keep any food down, anyways.

"You okay, dude?" CJ asked when they all settled in.

TJ shook his head. "Someone told Prickley about Austin bullying me, and now he's gonna get back at me for it," he said. "It's giving me a headache."

The silence following his statement didn't go unnoticed. He looked up at the rest of the group when they didn't continue the conversation.

"What?"

"That was, uh, us," CJ confessed. "I thought that if he got kicked off the football team for bothering you, then maybe he would stop and leave you alone. We even made the note anonymous."

". . .oh my God," he groaned.

"Are you mad at us?"

". . .no. No i'm not mad. If you were in my position, I'd probably do the same, so I understand why," he said. "It's just. . .I dunno. Someone wake me up when lunch is over, I'm taking a nap."

ZZZZZ

Stepping into the cafeteria after school, Ashley fully expected to see her former fiends also waiting for the meeting to begin. She took a deep breath; she wasn't going to let them intimidate her from being on the team to plan for the school dance. They sat together, chatting among themselves, filling their nails. Did she really used to be like that? She liked making sure she looked nice, but now that she was on the outside looking in, they looked so shallow.

She sat at the table, waiting for the teacher to arrive to get the meeting started. There were a few other students that arrived, mostly girls in small groups. She'd ask one of the others to join her if they already didn't have their own after school plans.

"Is anyone sitting here?" She looked up and saw another girl dressed in black, who looked vaguely familiar.

"No, it's fine," Ashley said, moving her bag. "You look familiar, have we met?"

"Our two groups hung out behind the school during spirit week," she said.

"Oh, right! Your names Emily, isn't it?" asked Ashley. Emily nodded. "I'm surprised you'd come to help with the dance. It doesn't seem like something a goth kid would be into."

"It isn't. I'm only here to make things hard for them," Emily tilted her head towards Ashley's old group. "The blonde one thought it would be funny to stick a pad on my gym locker after a tampon fell out of my bag yesterday. As if half of us don't already bleed on a regular basis. So this is me getting back at her. Nice and slow."

"Sounds like a plan."

ZZZZ

"TJ, there's someone here to see you!"

Though he was still struggling to pay attention to his homework, there wasn't much else TJ wanted to ty and focus on at the moment, including any distractions. An hour into it and he still hadn't finished his first assignment. He must've been staring at the same page, or heck, the same line for ten minutes, now.

Sighing, he put down his pencil and headed out to see who came to see him. He didn't expect any of his friends to stop by, and they weren't known to stop by randomly without calling, so he didn't know who to expect to see.

But he knows for dam sure he didn't expect Vince to be standing there.

"What do you want?" He snapped.

"I wanna talk."

". . .Whatever." He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack. Being so close to her normal walk time, Sasha came up to him, expecting to go out. He clipped on her leash before heading out.

The two of them ended up walking a couple of streets away. It was time for Sasha's walk, anyway. When Sasha decided they've walked enough for the time being, she stopped, deciding that they would, too. TJ patted his jacket until he felt the small cigarette box in his inner pocket, curtesy of Colten, the miracle worker.

"What do you want?" He asked, searching for his lighter. "Did Austin get you to bring me out here for them to jump me again? Don't you guys get enough of that at school?"

"No? Since when do you smoke?" Vince asked. TJ didn't answer, paying more attention to the smoking coming off the cigarette in his mouth. He needed to remember to finish this one before he got home or else he'd get in trouble again. But would it really matter? He was already in trouble about his grades dropping.

"Not soon enough," he said. "So what do you want? I've got homework to do."

"Why don't you just . . .you know. . .stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop hanging around a bunch of nobodies, stop being such a loser. You're good at sports and stuff, you can join a team and be a jock, then Austin wouldn't bully you!" He said. "Join the soccer team or something, you were good at that, right? And it's not like you don't know how to make friends. Just dropped the whole depressed act and you can be normal."

"You really think this is an act." That was more of a statement to himself, rather than a question. He shook his head. "No. Just because I don't like myself doesn't mean that I don't like my friends and I don't like my hobbies. I'm not dropping them just to gain Austin's approval, or any ones. Sorry I'm not 'normal'."

"God, that's not what I meant! Just. . .you just change, Austin would leave you alone! And people wouldn't think you were some sort of freak."

"They can think whatever they want," said TJ. "Schools hard enough without worrying what other people think."

"But you have to worry about what other people think, that's how you fit in! It's how things work! That whole 'be yourself' bullshit only works in elementary school."

"I dunno, I think it's pretty good advice."

"So you're just gonna hang around bunch of rejects? And those goth kids, too?"

"They're a lot nicer than the people who judge them," said TJ. "It's kind of funny. The kids dressed in all black and look the most threatening are the most welcoming and openminded, and the 'normal' kids are a bunch of judgmental bullies who reject anyone who's not like them."

"Whatever. I tried to help," he said, turning to walk away. "If you want to stay a social reject, then you deserve whatever happens."

TJ continued his walk with Sasha. Like usual, he planned on walking to the lake, then turning around to head back home. Not quite ready to head back, he found a stick and threw it, opting for a short game of fetch.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, Detweiler."

When Sasha returned with the stick, TJ turned to the source of the voice standing by the sidewalk.

"Hey, Robert! what's going on?" He asked. "I missed you."

"Same," Robert said, walking own to join him. "How's things been? How's middle school?"

TJ's shoulders slumped at that question, something that didn't go by unnoticed by Robert.

"C'mon, talk to me," Robert said, leading him to sit on the edge of the pier. "What's the matter?"

"There's a lot going on. I've got a bully on my back who won't leave me alone, the whole school thinks I'm some sort of unstable psycho freak, my depression keeps getting worse, I can't focus on anything, I can't sleep, and I just. . .!" Up to now, he's been facing what's been happening with a sort of numb indifference, but actually saying things out loud began to let the anger that boiled underneath to come to surface. His eyes stung as tears rose and rolled down his face.

"Hey, it's okay." Robert put an arm around his shoulders.

"No, it's not okay! I want to be left alone. Everything's so frustrating, and anything I try to make it better only makes it worse. I'm so tired, Robert." "Sometimes I just want to go to sleep forever. At least when I sleep, I'm a little bit happy again."

"Have you thought about telling someone about this bully?"

"No, but my friends did, but that only made things worse! It would've been better if they didn't say anything! And I'm not mad at them; if this was happening to one of them, I'd tell, too, but. . . I don't know! I even tried fighting the guy and he still won't stop. I feel like I don't know anything anymore. And then my old friends just fed him more information to use against me, too?! Jesus Christ what the hell did I ever do them?!"

"Wow. Sounds like I've shouldn't have stopped talking to you," Robert said. "You're going through a lot right now."

"I'm so tired. . ."

"I know. You look it," said Robert, sympathetically. "You look miserable."

"I feel miserable," he mumbled. "I wish I had a time machine, so we can go back to the summer when it was just all of us hanging out."

"You need to tell your parents about how you're feeling," Robert said. "They can help."

"They already worry about me too much, they shouldn't have to worry about me just because I can't take care of my own problems."

"It's their jobs to worry about you. They wouldn't be good parents if they didn't," Robert insisted. "And are your parents good parents?"

"Yeah. They put up with all the stuff I used to pull in elementary school. I know most parents would've been driven up the wall, but they actually listened to my side."

"And they'll listen to you now. C'mon, I'll walk back with you." The two of them stood up and walked back up to the sidewalk. "Don't think I didn't notice how you smell like cigarette smoke, either."

". . . I can explain."

"I'm sure you can."

"A friend of mine offered one to me. I said no at first, but they help me calm down, so is it really that bad?'

"Yeah, it is. Look, I'm not going to be on your back about it, but you'd be doing yourself a favor if you stopped."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They continued the rest of their walk in a comfortable silence. Walking together, it was almost like summer again, with no one else around. But it ended as they reached his house.

"You want me to come in for support when you tell your parents?" Robert offered. "I can talk for you, if you want."

"Nah, I think I've got it. Thanks for listening to me, though, Robert," he said. "I'll see you later."

He waved Robert goodbye before stepping inside the house. clipping the leash off Sasha's collar, he heard his parents in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Robert wanted him to tell his parents about what he was feeling, but it just wasn't that easy. His couldn't stand to see the worry on their faces every time his depression was brought up. Instead, he headed upstairs to get back to his homework.


	17. And the punches keep on coming

"I can't believe that little shit, snitching on me! I swear to God, I'm gonna get him back, and he's gonna wish he never stepped into school."

Suspended, Austin had to wait until after school to see his usual group of lackeys. While they were at practice, he had to wait until it let out to tell them exactly why he wasn't there, and what he was going to do about it. He paced back and forth, his hands in tight fists, and steaming mad. Getting suspended from school and kicked off the team just because of one insignificant kid.

"Why are you so worried about getting back at him?" one of the others asked. It was Kevin, someone who followed him since the beginning of the year.

"What?"

"I'm just saying you should focus on getting back on the team, instead, right?" Kevin asked.

"Oh I'm getting back on the team. One way or another I'm getting back in. But I'm getting back at him for screwing me over, first" Austin said. "C'mon, I'm gonna find him and beat him up as a start."

ZZ

Sasha's barking caught TJ's attention. Usually she would only bark a few times here and there, but this was different; this was her trying to get someone to get away. He was hoping to clear his mind with some peace and quiet, but the world decided otherwise. He turned from the lake to see what she was barking at. Austin, along with his lackies had found him. Of course.

"I bet you think you got me good, huh? Getting me suspended and kicked off the football team?' Austin stomped over to him, and grabbed the front of his collar, almost pulling him off his feet. Sasha stood by, growling in warning. "Too bad for you short shit, I'm pissed off and I'm taking it out on you!"

"Like hell you are." With a new voice he didn't recognize, Austin paused and looked around for the source. A hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face an obvious high schooler, with a head and a half over him.

"What the fuck?"

"So do you do this all the time? Bully people who are minding their own business?" Robert asked. "What a coward."

"Why do you even care?! Who the hell are you?"

"You don't need to know who I am, all you need to know that if you mess with him, you're going to have to deal with me," Robert warned him. "C'mon, Detweiler. I wanna talk to you."

"Whatever. Don't think this is over, you little shit!" Austin yelled after them. "I'll get you back in school!"

"Is that the guy?" Robert asked him as they walked away from the lake.

"Yeah, that's him," TJ said, searching his pockets for the small box he always kept in his jacket. With his lighter almost empty, it took a couple tries to get a flame. "Austin the asshole."

"I've seen his time before. Typical bully, picks one or a few people to torment because they think they have the right," said Robert. "Gets it in their head that no one can stop them, so they don't know when to stop."

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"I didn't. I was just on a walk," he said. "Thought I'd be a friend and help you out. No middle schooler is gonna pick a fight with a high schooler, bully or not."

"Oh, thanks, then," TJ said. "I owe you one."

"How about you pay me back right now and toss the cigarette?" Robert asked.

"Jesus, I barely got a decent drag out of it," he said. He tossed it on the sidewalk and stomped it out with his shoes. "What a waste."

"Nah, I did you a favor. C'mon, I'll by you a soda instead."

ZZZ

A knock at the door only managed to slightly bring TJ out of his permanent haze he was finding his head it. He continued to lay in bed, under the covers, staring up at the ceiling without asking who it was.

After another knock, the door opened, and his mother stepped in.

"TJ? You're going to be late for school," his mother said.

". . . I can't today." He mumbled. "I can't go to school, mom. Can I take one of my mental heath days?"

"You aren't feeling well today?" she asked, coming closer to his bed. He barely shook his head as an answer. "Alright. I'll check on you later, okay?"

"Oka-"

Before he could get a single word answer out, his stomach decided it was prime time to empty itself. He clamored out of the tangle of his sheets and bolted to the bathroom attached to his room. By some miracle, he made it to the toilet before he emptied his stomach all over himself.

Heaving, he felt his mom rub his back to comfort him, but her focus quickly turned to his hair.

"TJ, did you do something to you hair?" She asked. He shook his head, but she was still focused on his head. "Well, alright. Let's get you back in bed, you're in no shape to go to school."

She helped him back into bed.

"My head hurts," he groaned. "Everything hurts."

"I'll go get some medicine and see if I can get Dr. Hardy to come over," she said. "You stay in bed."

He settled back into bed while his mother called next door.

ZZZ

Having a pediatrician as a neighbor came in handy throughout the years, as Mr. and Mrs. Detweiler came to learn with their two children. After their neighbor, Dr. Hardy, came over on his off day and gave TJ a quick look over, he talked to his parents downstairs.

"It's alopecia. The bad news is that it's normally caused by severe stress. The good news is that once the stress is removed, his hair will grow back. I see about a dozen kids with this a year, and once the stress is resolved, their hair comes back without a problem," He explained. "It's the same thing with his stomach, migraine, and loss of appetite. Stress and depression can manifest in physical symptoms just as much as psychological ones."

All he could prescribe was some rest and relaxation, and maybe an appointment with Dr. Sage. After Dr. Hardy left, they two of them headed upstairs to talk with their son. TJ was still in be, trying to eat something that he could keep down for longer than ten minutes. So far, it as only chicken noodle soup. Some time between then, he found a beanie and put it on, hiding those embarrassing bald spots on his head. Those had to have been new, brand new. He didn't feel them last night or in the last couple of days when he washed his hair. Or maybe he was just so out of it lately that he didn't think to pay attention to his thinning hair.

"Did Dr. Hardy say what was wrong?" TJ asked.

"He did,' his mother started. "He said that everything, the hair loss, your stomach, and headaches is all due to stress." How tense he became at that moment didn't go unnoticed by his parents. "He said that once the stress is gone, that the symptoms should go away soon after."

"So, would you mind telling us what's on your mind?" His father asked.

"I dunno what he's talking about," he lied.

"TJ-"

"I just don't want to talk about it, okay? I hate thinking about it and I hate talking about it!"

"But you have to talk about these things in for them to get better."

". . .It's never gonna get better," he mumbled under his breath. "I just want to sleep."

"You understand that you can come to us with anything, right? No matter how small you think a problem is, we're always here to listen and do our best to help." His mother assured him. "You don't have to be afraid to tell us."

"I know."

"Then why can't you tell us what's bothering you?" she asked.

"I just can't, mom," he said. "It's hard to talk about."

"Then we want you to know that whenever you feel like you can talk about it, we'll be here, okay? Don't think for a minute that we won't drop everything and listen. We both love you so much, and we only want you to be happy."

"I know, mom. I love you guys, too," he said. "I just can't talk right now."

ZZZ

"How have things been going, TJ?"

"..."

"TJ?"

"..."

"Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"..."

TJ heard Dr. Sage writing something down. He couldn't bring himself to put forward the energy to answer the usual questions from his therapist. He laid on the couch opposite of Dr. Sage, completely still except for his breathing, rather than mess around with the tub of Lego's in front of him.

He could only pay attention to the ticking of the clock on the wall. How long was he here. He knew Dr. Sage meant well, and that he always listened with an open mind and free of judgement, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to speak. He was even depersonalizing at this point; it was sheer exhaustion why he couldn't make the words to say what he was thinking.

ZZZ

"Oops."

After a week being suspended, Austin was a week behind in tormenting his favorite and only target. And he was getting to work on that, through big and mall, including tripping him in the hallway. Rather than feed into it, he worked on getting his books and work off the dirty hallway floor.

"What the hell is that on your head? That's the ugliest hat I've ever seen."

Austin grabbed a handful of his beanie and yanked it off before he had a chance to stop him.

"HA! Look at that! He's going bald! What kind of kid goes bald?"

The hallway erupted in laugher. He scramvled to gather up his books, and while Austin was too busy laughing to pay attention, snatched his hat from out his hand, pulled it over his head and ran from the scene.

Between the crowd, it was hard for the others to catch up with him. They followed him to the school library, and found him between bookshelves so far in the back that no one would think to look for him there.

His sniffling helped thrm pinpoint his locatioj when they were close enough

"What an asshole. Dude, is your hair really falling out?"

He nodded.

"But why? Are you sick?"

"I'm sick of everything! I'm sick of school! I'm sick of being bullied! I'm sick of my old 'friends' doing everything they can to stab me in the back and twist the knife around for good measure. I just. . . .!" He clenched and unclenched his fists, before pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "I just want them to leave me alone. All of this, all the stress is what's making my hair fall out. I can't even comb my hair without patches falling out."

He pulled off his beanie for them to see the state of his head. A dozen small bald patches was littered across his scalp, a number of which overlapped. The hair around those spots were also thinning, close to falling out.

"It was only a few spots a couple days ago. Now I have to wear a hat so no one notices," he huffed. "And i can't even do that. And now more of it is going to fall out, and my parents are going to worry more, and. . .!"

His breathing became quick and shallow, and his heart raced, feeling like at my moment it would jump out of his chest.

"Hey, can you breathe?" He shook his head as he hands began to tremble. The his vision started to become hazy, and the world looked like it was closing in on him. "One of you guys go get the nurse!"

"No! No, I just n-need to get out of here. . .!" He tried to stand, but only fell back on the floor. He couldn't hear his friends trying to calm him down; all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

ZZZ

By the time he came to, he was moved to the nurses office. He at on one of the cots with a blanket draped over his shoulders. The school nurse sat at her desk, on the phone. Once she ended the call,

"You gave us quite a scare, there," the nurse said. She handed him a bottle of water. "It's alright; you had a panic attack, and those can be quite scary. It was a good thing your friends were there to bring you here. I just finished talking to your father; he'll be here to pick you up soon. You won't be able to focus in class right after a panic attack. They leave you pretty shaken up for a few hours afterwards, at least."

He nodded, and waited for his dad to pick him up. Like the nurse said, he was shaken up, if his trembling hands were anything to go by.

ZZZ

Above the gym, the rafters were built with secure paths, with decorative purposes in mind. it was easier to replace blown out lights and remove dust without requiring a lift that needed to be periodically rented. Any student with enough reason to care could find their way up there through the right doors.

"See, this is perfect." Austin was one of those students. "We get a trashcan filled eith the most gross stuff up here, and rig it to fall over on that twerp. It cant go wrong. All we gotta do is figure out how to make it haopen."

". . .Don't you think you're going too far?" Kevin asked.

"What the hell are you talking about Kevin? Don't tell me you're sticking up for him."

"I'm just saying, isn't what you did earlier enough? You embarrassed him in front of the school, isn't that what you wanted this whole time?" Kevin asked. "I mean, Jesus Christ, man, no kid wants everyone to know they're losing their hair."

"Hey, if he cant take some bullying, then that's his problem. Everyone gets bullied eventually. He's a fucking cry baby anyways," Austin said.

"But he isn't even fighting back anymore! Before it was kind of a fair fight because he stood up to you. Now its like you're kicking a dead horse. I know us guys push and rip on each other, but this is too much. You already humiliated him in front of the school, this is enough!"

"It's enough when I say it's enough!"

"You're crazy, man. Everyone has their breaking point and it's like you're hellbent on finding his. I went along with it up 'til now, but I can't watch you do this. I'm out of here." Kevin turned and walked away from the group.

"Whatever. Walk away, pussy! I don't need you!" Austin shouted as Kevin left. "Who needs him? I need people who can follow through. Anyways, we're gonna need a trashcan, some garbage, and a nerdy kid."

ZZZ

"And then Mindy said that Tammy said that she looked like something that crawled from under the bed."

"Like, no way!"

"I know, right?"

While Ashley B. would normally be apart of their cliques conversation, he mind was elsewhere as they worked on the detail for the school dance. The theme ended up being a night at the circus, much to Ashley A's dismay. She nominated a royal ball theme, but it didn't get enough votes to win. Now they worked on the massive amount of red and white paper rings, one of the many things they'll be using to decorate the gym in a month.

"Like, Ashley B., are you even paying attention?" Ashley A. asked.

"Huh? Oh sorry, I've just got a lot on my mind right now," said Ashley B.

"Well you better pay attention, this is juicy school gossip we're discussing,' said the lead Ashley. 'i can't waste time repeating myself."

"Right, right. I'm going to get some air," Ashley B. said. she finished the part of her decoration before stepping away and out of the lunch room. The other Ashley's continued with their gossiping. Except Ashley S. she normally drowned out the other gossiping, finding it pointless to try and keep up with. But something was bothering Ashley B. She stepped out of the cafeteria and rather than walk outside for some air, she headed inside the closest bathroom.

"This is kind of a bad place to get some fresh air," she joked. "Is something the matter, Ashley B.?"

"Oh, its nothing."

"Its gotta be something, usually you're soaking up the gossip."

". . .Can you keep a secret, Spinelli?"

Being referred to by her last name after such a long time was a surprise, especially by one of the other Ashley's. Just hearing it made her pull away from the mask and act she put on to fit the role of a cheerleader.

"I guess so," Spinelli said.

Ashley B. locked the bathroom door to keep anyone else from coming in. She removed the yellow beret she wore over her head, revealing several bald spots on the top of her head.

"I have aloepeca, and, I dunno, what happened earlier today has been, like, getting to me. Losing your hair over stress is no fun, that's for sure," she said. "That's whats been bothering me all day.

"Oh, damn. You'd become a laughing stock if anyone found out about that," she said.

"I know! And that only makes it worse. God, the cheerleading, keeping my grades up, keeping up with every single bit of gossip, looking perfect everyday, and making it all look effortless, it's all stressing me out and ruining my hair!" She cried. "I hate middle school!"

"If you don't like doing all this stuff, then why don't you just stop?"

"And become a total social reject? I can't do that! The other Ashleys would destroy me!"

"But they're your friends, wouldn't they understand?" Spinelli asked.

"Oh, please. If your old group is able to turn on Detweiler like it's nothing, then, like, what hope is there for the rest of us to stick together?" Ashley B. asked. "I'm better off just putting up with it. I would just die if this got out. But it felt good talking about it. . . you won't tell anyone, will you, Spinelli?"

"Yeah, sure, Ashley B.'

"Thanks! I owe you one." She placed the beret back on her head, checking the mirror to make sure it was perfectly hiding her secret. "We should get back before the others starting wondering why we were gone for so long."

They headed back to the cafeteria, where the other Ashley's were still continuing their gossiping. Ashley B soon hopped right back into it, while Spinelli was left thinking about what the yellow clad Ashley had said.

ZZZ

None of them saw Kevin again until practice. Rather than talk with them after practice, he sat away from his usual group of friends, getting his stuff together in his gym bag. The tension from the small falling out earlier that day was still in the air, but it didn't effect their practice.

"You okay, man?" Kevin zipped up his bag and turned to see Vince standing nearby.

"I'm fine," Kevin said. He sat on the bench, opting to wait a few minutes before heading home. He and Austin lived in the same neighborhood, and he didn't want to see him any more than he had to any the moment. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, I just wanted to see if you were okay after earlier," said Vince. He joined Kevin on the bench, dropping his own gym bag on the ground. "You were pretty pissed."

"Yeah, I was. Austin's been getting on my nerves. I should've stopped being his lacky months ago," he said. "Guess I was too much of a coward to do it."

"Hey, Austins a pretty intense guy. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it."

". . .Didn't you used to be friends with that puny kid?" Kevin asked. "Austin mentioned it a few times."

"Yeah. . ? So?"

"So why do you go along with it? None of us used to be friends with him, so it's easy for us to make fun of him, but you did, so wouldn't you not want this to happen?"

"But we're not friends anymore, so why does it matter?"

"I dunno. I'm not friends with a lot of people anymore, but I wouldn't want anyone bullying them," he said. "Or maybe I'm in no place to say that, since I went along with Austin for long, I don't know. I'm heading out, see you later, man."

"Yeah, I'll, uh, see you later. . ."

ZZZ

Up again, in the middle of the night. Unlike before, TJ managed to get in a few hours of sleep before waking up and being unable to go back to sleep. He wondered if trying at this point was even worth it; it wasn't like it ever worked. Nothing works.

He just wanted to go to sleep and do the world a favor. He can be asleep and the world wouldn't have to deal with him and all his problems. If he just upped and disappeared, that'd be even better.

He didn't bother to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. What's the point? Instead, his fingers brushed across the blade of the pocketknife he kept in the back of his desk drawer. He had forgotten about it until he tried cleaning his desk earlier that weak.

And for a moment, he wondered how quick it would be if he used that pocketknife on his wrists. . . .Maybe not fast enough. No, across the neck, he'd be out in only a few seconds. Real quick.

He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Sasha who was sleeping nearby on the floor. He left the pocketknife on his desk before stepping out of his room.

"Mom? Mom, please wake up. . ." He gently shook his mother.

s table, and the first thing she noticed was him crying. "Why are you crying? Harold, wake up."

"I'm not okay, mom. I want to kill myself and I don't know if I can stop myself. . ."

Whatever sleep was left in them was gone once they heard what he said. His mother pulled him into a tight comforting hug, swearing that things we're going to be betfer, but he found it impossible to believe her.

Meanwhile, his father was on the phone, probably trying to get a hold of Dr. Sage, he guessed. Whatever was said had him in the back of the family car, numbly staring down at his hands as his parents drove. Whatever was being said, he couldnt make out as everything was muffled to him.

They met up with Dr. Sage, who immediately reassured him that he was going to be okay, and that he made the right choice in letting his parents know how he was feeling. When the bright overhead lights began to hurt his eyes, he finally looked around.

White floors and walls, nurses walking around, it didnt take much thinking for him to realize it was a hospital.

He and his parents were lead down a hall by a couple of nurses, until they reached a room furnished with only a bed, desk, and chair.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of your son," The doctor said. "We're all experts here, and we only provide the best treatments for all patients."

"What? I'm not staying here, am I? Mom, dad, i take it back, I wont hurt myself, just don't leave me in here!"

"TJ, I need you to listen to me," his father said. He kneeled down to his level, placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, and looked at him with the same expression he gave when he was about to tell him an important lesson. "This is only temporary, we promise. As soon as visiting hours start in the morning, we will be back. But you have to stay here, only for a little bit, for your own safety. We promise this is only temporary."

"But you're locking me away! Like I'm some nutcase! I'm not crazy, dad! Please don't leave me in here! I won't do anything, I promise! Please don't leave me in here, please please please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . !"

Dr. Sage asked for a moment alone so they could speak iwth him. The nurses and doctors nodded, stepping outside but staying close enough to step in if necessary. They sat on the edge of the bed, with his between his parents and Dr. Sage in the desk chair.

"This is only temporary, son. We need you to trust us."

"You're locking me away. . .! I don't want this to happen! I'm not crazy! I don't want to be here!"

"We know you're not crazy, TJ," said Dr. Sage "Listen to us. Your parents don't want to leave you here, either. If they had their way, they'd take you home right now, but that simply isn't the responsible thing to do right now. Right now, you need to be here for your own safety."

"But why? Why can't I go home?"

"You will come home, you aren't staying here forever, TJ. your parents are not abandoning you here, right?"

"That's right.. We'll be back as soon as visiting hours start, son. We would never leave you here forever," his father said. "Can you trust us?"

". . .What time are visiting hours?"

"They start at 9 a.m."

"What time is it, now?"

"3:49 a.m.'

"So . . .5 hours, then? You'll be back in 5 hours?"

"That's right."

"You promise you'll be back?" he asked, looking at his parents. "You aren't locking me away?'

"Of course not, TJ," his mother told him. "We'll be back first thing in the morning."

". . .okay."

"Okay?" Dr. Sage asked. TJ nodded, wiping his face. "Good. Now, how about you get some rest? You deserve it. It's been an eventful night, and it'll help time pass faster. We'll be back soon, alright?"

He nodded. His parent hugged him tightly, promising to see him soon, before stepping out to talk to the doctor. He laid down in bed with his legs pulled up to his chest. After speaking to the doctor, they came back in one more time to say goodbye for the night.


	18. Three Days

As it turned out, sleeping in a blank, nearly featureless room gave TJ some of the best nights rest he's had in weeks. Even with the blanket being stiff, and the uncomfortable silence, he didn't wake up with the ominous sense of dread that waited for him a of late. But he didn't wake up on his own accord; he was gently awakened by one of the nurses. She was a small mousy looking woman, with her hair pinned up and wearing a glasses.

"I know it's only been a few hours, but it's time to wake up," she said, gently shaking him awake.

"What time is it?" He groggily asked.

"7 am," she said. "Since it's your first day, I'm going to be your guide. There's still a little while until breakfast. Would you like to take a shower, first?"

He nodded, and followed her out of the room. Already in the halls were other patients, some also being lead by nurses. They stopped by a large closet, and she handed him everything he'll need and a change of clothing, a simple grey sweatsuit. The bathroom, luckily, had individual shower stalls.

After a much needed hot shower, being careful with the scars on his arms, he was lead into the cafeteria. It was a far cry from what he expected. Rather than a cold and dark room with the only food being served being grey slop, it was bright and open, with a buffet of breakfast foods for any of the patients.

"What would you like to eat?" The nurse asked.

". . .Yeah. Do they have pancakes?"

ZZZZ

Standing in front of a mirror, Gus admired the muscles he finally gained as a result of all the training the JROTC put him through. He was no longer that little shrimp of a kid, no longer a weakling that got looked over because he was too small, or too weak, or too slow. Now he was getting muscles, now he was average height, and looked like he could stand along side with all the other army kids during their training and maybe stand a chance on the battlefield.

It's the best thing that ever happened to him. Now he had respect among his friends. Or army buddies. Either or, they're the same thing right? They have each others back if one gets picked on, but that if never came, as no one wanted a junior army to deal with.

His uniform was clean and perfectly pressed and tailored just to fit him, and hung in a plastic suit bag on the back of his closet door. He was a true solder in training. Or pre-pre-training.

Then why did he feel so guilty? In his core, there was just. . .something eating away at him, telling him that he was guilty and that feeling wasn't going to go away until he fixed it.

He tried to shake the feeling. He needed to get to bed, anyways. He double checked his backpack to make sure his homework was there. While walking past his desk, his glanced at the picture frame on the shelf just about it. The picture inside was from elementary school, with his old friends. They were all together and smiling. He needed to replace it whenever the picture of him and his troop came in. It'll keep him motivated. Maybe he had one already laying around, they did take group pictures when they reached milestones in their training.

He found one in his drawer. His troop standing proud after they finally managed to clear an obstacle course under a set time. He switched the pictures and now the photo of him and his troop were standing proud was on his shelf.

There. That's better.

Wasn't it?

ZZZZ

There was a level of relief that TJ felt when he saw his parents coming in that he lacked the proper words to describe. There was still part of him that feared being stuck here, thrown away like the defective piece of trash he was that no one really wanted to deal with. The only reason he stayed calm was that he hung on to his parents promise of coming back. And like they said, when visiting hours started at 9 am, they walked right into his room, smiling mostly to ease his fears, but still uneasy about the whole situation.

"How are you feeling, TJ?" His mother asked after they separated from their hug.

"Fine, I guess. . ."

"Now that things have calmed down a bit, we can start making things better,"

"I still don't know why I'm here," he said. His parents started to answer in their own way, trying to somewhat sugarcoat the seriousness of the current situation, but Dr. Sage interpreted.

"No, no, I think he's old enough that we can properly explain this to him," said Dr. Sage. "You came to your parents saying you wanted to kill yourself, correct?" He nodded. "TJ, that counts as a emergency, and because of that, your parents had to get you somewhere where you can't act on those thoughts. They called me, and told them to bring you here so you can be safe."

". . . .Where exactly am I?"

"This is Green Valley. It's a mental hospital specifically for minors. The doctors and nurses here are experts," said Dr. Sage. "It's not like the hospitals in movies. It's clean, bright, the food is good, the doctors and nurses genuinely care about the kids here, it's all meant to make the kids here feel safe. You've seen that so far this morning, haven't you?"

"I guess, so. . . "

"Good. Now, there are a lot of things we need to talk about. It's going to be hard, but we're all going to be able to move forward afterwards," Dr. Sage said. "How about we start with last night? Can you tell us what was going through your mind before you came to your parents?"

TJ couldn't answer right away. The thought of telling his parents why he was one impulse away from offing himself doing the world a favor made him freeze. He gripped the edge of his over sized sweatshirt, looking as his socks and avoiding eye contact until he found his voice to speak.

". . .I couldn't sleep like every other night, so I was just laying in bed thinking about stuff, trying to go back to sleep. Then I remembered this old pocket knife I had in the back of my desk drawer, and started messing around with it, going through all the different parts. . ."

"And then?"

". . ."

"TJ?"

". . ."

"You have to talk to us."

". . I know, it's just. . . can I talk to you alone for a minute? It's important."

Dr. Sage paused and shared a look with his parents.

"Would you two mind giving us a moment?" Dr. Sage asked. TJ's parents nodded and stepped outside the room.

"Do they have one of those rooms with a two way mirror here?"

"Why?"

"Because I cant talk to them directly about this. They can listen but I can't look at them while,I talk about this, and I don't know why," he explained. "Do they have one of those rooms here?"

"They do," Dr. Sage confirmed. "If we bring you into that room, with your parents behind the mirror listening, will you talk?" TJ nodded. "Alright, I'll get one of the nurses to see if we can move there."

ZZZZ

CJ was worried.

No. that wasn't strong enough of a word.

Troubled?

Concerned?

Nervous?

Uneasy?

Uneasy would do. CJ felt uneasy. There was something leaving her feeling uneasy the moment she woke up that morning. She couldn't shake the feeling all morning as she got ready for school, fed Jasper, headed out, and put her stuff in her locker. But it was then that she noticed her boyfriend wasn't there, what with their lockers being close to each other.

It didn't help that she still felt bad for that anonymous note. TJ said that he wasn't mad at them and understood why, even that if one of them was in the same situation as him, he'd do the same thing, but she still felt bad for it. Austin was still being an unbearable asshole, now he was an asshole hellbent on revenge.

But there had to be something they could do to make him feel better, right? When was the last time the five of them just hung out together? It feels like forever. Maybe that's what they needed for a pick-me-up. School and junk could be overwhelming. She might not fully understand what depression was like, but they could at least try.

"Something on your mind, CJ?" Ashley asked, once lunch rolled around.

"I feel bad for that note we left. I really thought it would make Austin stop," she said, poking at her lunch with a spork. "I only made things worse."

"You were just trying to make things better. He said he's not mad at you, or any of us," said Ashley.

"I still feel bad about it, though. I want to make it up to him," she said. "I was thinking, all of us haven't just hung out together in a long time. How about we take a weekend and have some fun? We haven't had a chance to do that since school started."

"That sounds like a good idea," Menlo said as he joined them at their table. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about we go skateboarding? It's a little chilly, but it's not too cold that they close up the park. And paint balling, that was fun."

"Paintballing? Doesn't that hurt?" Ashley asked.

"Only if you get hit," Randall joked. "It's not so bad. It hurts less than what you're thinking."

"And if they closed the area because of the weather, we could always opt for laser tag instead. It's almost just like it," CJ said. "And it's just as fun. You go with him to check out abandoned places, right, Randall? How about we all go to one of those places together? Then we can hit up the arcade, and end the day with watching a bunch of trashy horror movies? It'll be just like summer! At least for one day."

"I think that sounds like a good idea," said Menlo."It'll be a refreshing break from school."

With them all agreeing, a plan was made. This weekend, they were going to get a little taste of summer.

ZZZZ

The one of the nurses gave them the all clear to use the one room they had with a one way mirror. It wasn't anything special, just a medium sided room barely any bigger than the room he slept in, with seats and a table between them. And the large mirror on one of the walls. TJ knew his parents were on the other side, but that small difference was going to make it easier to talk, or at least he hoped it would.

He knew, on a common sense level, that they needed to know these things, but he couldn't say it straight to their faces.

"Is this good?" Dr. Sage asked.

"Yeah," said TJ. He sat across from his therapist. "This is good."

"Alright. Can you tell me what was on your mind last night?"

"I was just laying in bed thinking why I couldnt fall asleep, because everyone would be happier if I did. I'd have nice dreams, and no one would have to deal with me for a few hours. Then I thought why does it have to be just a few hours? Why cant it be for a few days? Or forever? I could just stab myself in the neck and it'd be over quick, wouldn't it? Just one quick jab. . .I know I shouldn't have those thoughts, so I told my parents. And here I am," he said with a small chuckle.

"Everything is. . .everything is. . .I don't know. I want to go back to last summer, before middle school. I've go a bully who is dead set on making me miserable every chance he gets. He made the whole school think I'm some sort of psycho that's gonna come in with a gun one day. He won't leave me alone, it's like he ONLY picks on me. I didn't even say two words to him before he decided that I was going to be his target. Even after we fought in the park, he just took that as a sign to keep going with it. He pushes me, trips me in the hallway, gets his group to take me somewhere no one will find us and take turns treating me like a punching bag, framing me for things he does. . .I don't even want revenge anymore, I just want him to stop.

"And my old friends, it's like they want to destroy me. They fed Austin information about me so he can pick on me even more. Over stupid shit. What did I ever do to them? They're treating me like I killed their entire families. Or maybe I should've seen it coming from a long time ago. It's not like they didn't hide away from me to make fun of sixth grade; of course they would keep doing it.. One of them had the nerve to come up to me and tell me to act 'normal' just so Austin wouldn't make fun of me. Like I'm the one in the wrong. As if he isn't trailing behind him and joining in on the punches. That's a laugh. None of this is normal, is it? The people who you uses to be close with, could tell and share anything with, who were there for you through thick and thin, doing what they can to rip you to pieces without an ounce of remorse. I don't understand how people can be like that.

"So I try to ignore it, and it should be easy, I've got hobbies to distract myself with, right? But I can't even enjoy the things I used to. I can't say I care about kickboxing anymore. I care about making my comic less and less. I don't check out abandoned places anymore. I know I enjoyed doing these things, but they're slipping away from me and I can't bring myself to put forward the energy to care. I want to do these things, I'm good at them, but what's the point, anymore?

"And I know that all of this should make me feel angry. That's what anyone would feel in my shoes, right? But I can't, Dr. Sage. I can't feel angry, I can't feel sad, all I feel is tired. I don't have the energy to feel anything anymore except tired. I don't want it to be true, but a small part of me wants to kill myself and be done with it, and it keeps growing, and I don't understand why.

"Why do I feel like this? Why do I suddenly have to take these pills to get out of bed in the morning? I used to be a pretty happy and normal kid, didn't I? Why did I go from that to this? Why is it so hard to feel happy again? Why is this happening to me, of all people? And I know, Dr. Sage, I know you told me that sometimes there isn't a reason, that sometimes people become depressed without a real cause behind it, and I get that, but that's not a good enough answer for me. There has to be a reason in this case. There has to be a reason why one of the happiest kids suddenly thinks he'd be doing the world a favor if he wasn't alive anymore. I can't accept that there's no reason in my case, because to me, if there's no reason, then I can't fix it. And I'm used to fixing problems, one way or another, but not being able to fix this one, not having a plan for this. . .it makes me feel. . .helpless. Powerless. I don't like feeling like that. It scares me.

"And lately I don't even feel like trying anymore. What's the point? It's not like when I do it gets any better. . . I dunno, I'm ready to give up, I think. I don't care, anymore. I want to curl up in a ball and die. I'm just a burden to anyone who tries to help. My parents shouldn't have to worry about me this much. You shouldn't worry about me this much. I should be able to handle this on my own, like a normal person, but I can't. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I was left here. I'm just some stupid, defective, pathetic, weak, crybaby kid who can't handle anything on his own. Who would want to be around a kid like that?"

As he poured his heart out, laying everything that's been weighing on his shoulders out, he couldn't stop himself from talking. He didn't notice the tears pouring down his face and leaving damp spots on his sweatshirt. His breathing became short and hollow as he spoke and brought his knees to his chest, curling in on himself, simple action that brought a small bit of comfort and safety. Just for a minute, it let him block out all the things making him feel this way.

"I'm so tired of fighting, Dr. Sage. I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired. . ."

With his eyes shut tight, he didn't see his parents come in. They tightly embraced their crying son. They knew something had to have been bothering him, to make him go from an cautiously optimistic boy at the beginning of the school year to someone who never looked like he got enough rest, who they could barely get to eat, and looked like the world was on his shoulders every time he came home from school, but they didn't expect this. Did any parent ever expect their child to admit they thought about harming themselves?

"It's going to be okay. We promise it's going to be okay."

"We're going to do everything we can to make this better."

ZZZz

Primer, lip balm, foundation, blush, eye shadow, eye liner.

Perfect. Or at least that's what the other Ashley's told her was perfect. Ashley A spent an entire weekend teaching her how to put on makeup, once she made it on the cheer leading team. School dress code didn't permit makeup, but parties? They had to maintain appearances on top of the school hierarchy.

Ashley S still remembered the day when she walked into the kitchen after Ashley A. taught her the importance of wearing makeup. She cheered, almost crushed her in a hug, then at her down to teach her how to actually put on makeup that flattered her. By the end of the day, she was tired of her face being brushed and painted.

But like many things, she got used to it.

With her makeup done, she changed into her cheerleading uniform. All the other popular kids were going to be there; the sports teams were all going to wear the jerseys, and the cheerleaders in their uniform. They had to play the part. It was all part of middle school and growing up. Elementary school was fun, but they were well on their way to being adults, and they had to act like it. It wasn't their fault if some people couldn't accept that then oh well. If they wanted to be outcasts then they wanted what came with it.

ZZZZ

"This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man. . "

Now with the costumes and set fully restored back to it's formal glory, the drama club was able to finally have dress rehearsals. They were weeks behind schedule thanks to the vandalism of a particular good,for nothing kid with too much time on their hands, But! That didn't mean they couldn't catch up. Or that they had much of a choice if they wanted to put on the play at all, really. They needed to get things down pat.

"Emote! You must emote, Michael!" The drama director said from his spot in front of the stage. "The audience has to feel the characters emotion with every word!"

"Right, sorry," Mikey said, before clearing his throat. Darn dry throat. That wasn't going to keep him from performing.

"Let's start from the top!" The director said. "Places, people!"

Mikey sighed, taking the short chance they had to take a drink from his water bottle. He was going to get these lines down; he had to. He wasn't going to get shown up by the other drama kids.

ZZZ

There was something about the weighted blanket that eased away TJ's anxiety when it started to bubble up. While most of the kids were either in the commons area or outside, but he opted to stay in his room under the weighted blanket given to him and every patient in the hospital.

After letting out everything on his mind and shoulders, he did enough crying for a lifetime, or at least he thought so, and could only distantly listen to his parents and Dr. Sage as his mind increasingly became foggy. It was only hours later that he was starting to come out of that fog and fully aware of his surroundings again.

He really needed one of these blankets at home. It might work miracles after a day in that hellhole called Middle School.

Hopefully him being here won't get out. That's the last thing he needed to happen. More fuel to the fire. Austin would love to get this information on to use against him. 'See, I told you that little shit was a psycho! They had to take him to the loony bin!' He could imagine it now.

He adjusted his position under the blanket. For now, he wanted to leave those thoughts alone. This blanket just eased away his anxiety so easily. The people here really know what they're doing, don't they?

Visiting hours ended thirty minutes ago. As much as his parents wanted to stay, they couldn't, but still promised to come back tomorrow again, and unlike last night, he found it easy to believe that he wasn't being locked away. He really had some of the best parents, didn't he?

He sat up with the blanket wrapped around him. Over on his desk was a notebook given to him to write out his thoughts, along with a pen designed only able to be used when pointed downwards. It's been forever since he worked on his comic, and if it wasn't for him write down his ideas for where he wanted the story to go, he would've forgotten it. But he wasn't in the mood to write. If anything, he wanted to draw. Maybe not the comic, but something.

Reaching over, he grabbed the notebook and pen.

ZZZ

"Alright, nerd, listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna tell you this once. You're gonna build me something that can knock over a full trashcan, that we can carry and sneak in the school, and can be turned on by a remote."

". . .A-and why would I, u-um, do that?"

After school, Austin had brought his friends to find and corner one of those nerdy science geeks to do something he needed as part of his pranks. Besides, they were all too busy with sports and being socially relevant to know how to do any of the technical parts of it.

They ended up finding one of those nerds right after coming out of engineering club of all places, just perfect. Now they had him cornered, and he was doing his best to look brave, but between the nervous sweating and trembling, Vince knew he was scared out of his mind.

"Ha, ha! Because I told you, you fucking nerd! You either build it for us, or I'm gonna make your time here a living hell," Austin threatened. "And you know I will. I did it to that short shit and I'll do it to you. So you're gonna build it for me and it's going to be done by next week, got it?"

He quickly nodded.

"Good. Now get the hell out of here."

ZZZ

TJ didn't want to get too comfortable here. The hospital was nice enough; he didn't feel like he was going to be dragged away in a straitjacket. But it wasn't home, and he didn't want it to ever feel that way. So, in the commons area, where other kids were either wrapped around the TV, or playing with each other, he stayed settled in the corner, away from it all.

Instead, he continued to draw in the notebook. The thing was absurdly thin, with barely 30 pages to use, and he was almost done with it in a day. Part of him was proud of his drawing for once. The amount of detail in it that he would normally struggle with, he was having no problem this time around. Some exposed and torn muscle there, a broken bone here, with some blood for good measure.

Maybe a little too gorey, but hey, isn't drawing new things part of becoming a better artist? Besides, this was the most he's drawn in weeks, he should take advantage of that.

As long as it kept his mind off things. It was awkward during those therapy sessions with his parents there after telling them and Dr. Sage what's been on his mind and stressing him in the last few months. He knew that they had to know those things, that was just part of being good parents, but actually getting it out? Embarrassing.

The hugs afterwards felt so nice, though.

The sooner he could get out of this place, the better.

ZZZ

Friday came and went, and CJ still hadn't seen or heard from her boyfriend since Wednesday. At first, she and the others assumed that he needed one of his mental health days he told them about. But then the weekend came, and without a single phone call.

She called his house, multiple times, and each time it went from voice mail. She thought that she might be able to get through to his parents at least, but nothing. Maybe he needed a few days to himself; everyone needed those every now and then.

Still, that didn't do much to ease her worry.

"CJ, watch out!" Ashley shouted. CJ snapped out of her thoughts and remembered what she was doing. Pouring glass of soda that was now overflowing and pouring onto the counter.

"Shoot, my bad!" She said. Setting the bottle aside, she grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"What's on your mind?" Ashley asked.

"I was just wondering if TJ is okay. I've been calling his house and no one's picked up," CJ said. "It doesn't help that this is after what that asshole Austin pulled in the hallway."

"I can't believe he did that," Ashley said. CJ joined her back at the kitchen table. The two of them were over her house, putting a dent in their homework, with nothing else better to do. "He's such an ass."

"Tell me about it. I'm five seconds away from getting our kickboxing team to beat the crap out of him! I don't care if he's on the football team, he wouldn't stand a chance against a group of kids who are trained to punch as hard as they can 5 days out of the week."

ZZZ

There was plenty of talks about calming and stress relieving techniques, and talking, so much talking about feelings, and what those feelings mean, and how to share those feelings. TJ didn't know what he expected during these therapy sessions. If it was up to him he would stuff his emotions away and march through middle school with a cold indifference, but goddammit, between the 5 seconds on inner rage that petered out into a nasty mixture of sadness and hopelessness, any attempt to do so only lasted for a few hours at best.

And his parents and Dr. Sage weren't going to let him ignore it, or deal with it himself or stuff those feelings away if they had any say in it. That was how he ended up here in the first place, with thoughts of offing himself on a regular basis.

"Can you show us your arms?"

But really, it was hard to pay attention to what was being said. Zoning out has been happening a lot lately. But that question snapped him out of it.

"Why?" He asked. He already had his arms folded, and hunched over, trying to make himself disappear.

"Because we need to see."

He sighed. What was the point of even trying to get out of this one when he was out numbered 3 to 1? He rolled up in sleeves and held his arms out for them to see.

Old and new scratches litered both his upper and lower arms. Rather than the straight and neat lines that would come froma razor blade, they were jagged an uneven, some of them even resembling scrapes any kid would get just from rough housing; a breaking of the skin being the worst of it. Still, there were plenty that were scabbed over and had clearly bled at one point.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I just get stressed out about things and I start to panic, so I try to calm myself down and I end up scratching my arms without knowing," he tried to explain. He folded his arms made the motions of his nails raking over his upper arms where the healing scratches were. "By the time I calm down, I'm bleeding. I didn't even know I was doing it. It's not like I did it on purpose, so it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, TJ. Whether it's intentional or not, self harm is always a big deal," said Dr. Sage. "Once started, self harm can be extremely difficult to stop. There's also the risk of infection."

"I keep them clean," he mumbled. That wasn't much of defense.

If he could disappear right then and there, that would be just great. The scabs were still sore and few of them were red, but with how cool the weather had gotten made it easy to hide them with a hoodie or long sleeve shirt. But now they knew. of course they would find out. That's right on par with the amount of luck he was given in the last few months.

Pathetic

Before he could cover it up, tears were flowing down his face, like so many nights in his bedroom where he couldn't stop those negative thoughts from flooding his head. Hell, it happened when he was doing something as mundane ad boring as homework or chores, so did it really matter? The tears came when they felt like coming, and all he could do was wait it out.

Cry baby

At some point the three adults noticed his distress, but he couldn't get the words out to answer their questions of what was wrong. With how tight his throat felt, it was also if the words were stuck there, too jammed for him to push out. All he could do was grip and tug at his already thinning hair and shake his head.

Their voices, although they were right next to him, sounded increasingly distant as the edges of his vision began to blur and darken.

ZZZ

4.0

There wasn't a ore beautiful number. Getting her GPA back to it's perfect status took a while, though it wasn't a particular challenge, but of course, it was worth it Now Gretchen could focus on important things. Like showing up the other kids in her advanced classes.

ZZZ

Sooner or later, Sunday had to come, at his three days at Green Valley came to an end. They actually let him keep the weighted blanket that helped him calm down while he was there, saying something along the lines that patients often want to keep them.'

After everything being put on his table for his parents to know, he was left emotionally exhausted. He appreciated that the ride home was in silence. Making small talk wasn't something that he was up to, and he was pretty sure that his only responses would be nothing more than a nod or hum. But when he could see his mother looking at him through the rear view mirror, he gave a weak smile to reassure her that he was feeling at least a little better.

And that wasn't a lie. A little better was as good as he could describe the difference between Friday night and now.

Once they arrived home, the second the front door was opened, Sasha came running out, almost tackling TJ to the ground. Ah. How could he forget Sasha? She always followed him around loyally, of course she would miss him.

". . .I'm gonna take Sasha for a walk. . ." He told his parents. Grabbing her leash, he was quickly out the door with Sasha leading the way. maybe it was the hospital, but he didn't feel like being in any room at the moment. Walking was a good excuse not to.

It was nice to get some fresh air again. Speaking of talking, he didn't speak to his friends in days. They were probably worried about him dropping off the face of the planet for a couple of days, but what exactly could he tell them? "Hey, sorry I went awol, I was this close to offing myself so I had to be thrown in the looney bin for a bit, I'm fine now, though!" No, he'll stick to saying he wasn't feeling well. Maybe food poisoning if they wanted specifics.

After a block or two, Sasha seemed more interested in getting his attention and run around his legs than walking in a straight line. Of course. Without him around to toss a ball for her to chase, she had energy to burn.

"It's okay, Sasha. CJ'll let you run around in her backyard."

While he walked, he didn't know that he was being followed, and was thrown off guard when a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"What-"

"You had your friends worried, Detweiler."

He turned around and saw that it was Robert.

"Oh, it's only you, Robert," TJ said. "You scared me.'

"Sorry. but you scared your friends. Where have you been?" Robert asked. "We've been calling your house but couldn't get an answer."

"That makes sense. . .The last couple of days have been pretty intense for me," said TJ. "I was just headed over to CJ's place, but I still don't know how I'm going to explain it to them."

"You can try explaining it to me, first," he offered. "Does it have something to do with your depression?"

TJ nodded. "Oh yeah. It has everything to do it."

The two of them found an empty bench to sit on, rather than walk all the way down to the lake. Sasha was just as happy to see Robert as anything, and Robert commented on how much bigger she's gotten.

"So what's going on?" Robert asked. "Where have you been?"

"In a hospital, since early Thursday morning," TJ said. "My parents had to take me there because my therapist told them to."

"But why?"

". . .Because I was two moments away from offing myself," he said. "So I told my mom and my parents brought me there and I had to stay for three days."

"You wanted to kill yourself?"

He nodded. "To be honest, I still do. I wouldn't have to deal with so much bullshit if I was dead."

"Holy shit. . ."

"Yep. So there's that. Sorry I'm such a fuck up."

"You're not a fuck up, Detweiler. You're not, and there's nothing you need to apologize for," said Robert. "I'm glad you told your parents; that was the right thing to do."

"Yeah. I know."

"And there are plenty of people who'd be devastated if you went through with it. I know I would've been."

"Mmm. . ."

A comfortable silence settled between them. TJ leaned against Robert, tired from how draining the last few days have been, at least mentally. At least for a moment he can pretend it was summer again and just them relaxing without middle school bullshit on his shoulders.

"I miss summer," he mumbled. "Middle school is garbage."

"I know."

"I wanna go back to elementary school."

"I know, but you can't. Nobody can."

"Yeah. . .it still sucks, though," TJ said. "I know you don't like it, but I really want a cigarette."

"I imagine so. You shouldn't, but are you?" Robert asked.

He shook his head. "Not today, at least. I don't have time to go over to my one friend who gives them to me," he said. "My parents are expecting me back home soon. I don't even think I have time to stop by CJ's house like I wanted to because I've been talking to you."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay. I missed talking to you," TJ said, standing up. "I'm gonna head back, now. This whole thing has been draining. Emotionally."

"C'mon, I'll walk with you. It's been a while since we've spent any time together like this."

The two of them headed back towards TJ's house, enjoying the silence and each others presence. High school was doing its best to keep Robert busy with new social rules, drama, homework, and the like. It was easy to forget that one of his closest friends needed his support. He could make time to talk to him at least once a week.

Once they reached TJ's house, they separated and said their goodbyes.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

When TJ arrived at school, he was almost knocked over by CJ tackling him into a tight hug. She didn't knock him over, but she did knock the wind out of him for a second. Menlo, Ashley, and Randall stood close by, relief

"You had us worried sick! Where were you?!" CJ cried.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I really didn't," he said. "Things just got out hand Thursday night."

"What happened? We all tried calling your house but no one picked up," Menlo said.

". . .My parents were probably too busy to call you guys back, and I wasn't home to do it."

"Where were you?" CJ asked.

". . .I'll explain after school. I kinda don't want to start school with that on my mind. Or knowing that its on yours.."

The five of them walked into to school, expecting more of the same, including Austins bullying. However, when passing the lockers where he and his friends always stuck around at the beginning of the day, instead of the typical taunts and bullying, he seemed to ignore them, leaving TJ alone.

Expecting to be tripped or shoved was the new normal that he had adjusted to. So that not happening set him on edge right away. Maybe Austin was planning on doing something else. Something new that he didn't expect. He looked back, thinking that Austin was up to something, but found him still with his friends, not approaching him.

What the hell?

ZZZ

It was reaching five or six months since Randall did some good 'ol fashioned snooping around the student body for some juicy info. He loved that stuff in elementary, and hell, he still loved it, but middle school and a lack of Ms. Finster, he knew it wasn't viable to keep doing in in seventh and eight grade so he focused his attention elsewhere. Not that he was complaining, though. This whole photography thing was actually pretty fun. He's got a whole album full of the best pictures he taken, plus he has a group of friends that he didn't need to completely overhaul his personality for, like that brief stent in fourth grade with TJ tried to get him to hang out with his old friends. Back then he dropped the snitch act to fit in, now he didn't do so much as 'drop' it as much as it was redistributing talents. Now he had friends, one of them being TJ and the other a (former) Ashley, of all people. Who would've thought it?

But right now, his snooping senses were tingling. Something was telling him that there was something going down around this school, and that he should dust off those binoculars, recorders, and the rest of the spying gear to find out what exactly was going on. Considering how much of their, or specifically TJ's problems were because of Austin and his group, he had a hunch that was where he should focus the start of this potential investigation, even though his last attempt left him somewhat empty handed.

But if TJ was willing to become his friend, not over the summer but through the school year, then he could at least show some appreciation by helping him out. It's not like the others would disagree. Austin has been an ugly and painful thorn in their sides since day one.

ZZZ

"LaSalle, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I need you to get your old friends together and meet me after school."

"Why. . .?"

"Because, it's a part of the awesome prank i'm doing, duh," Austin said. "What I'm gonna have you do is starting hanging out with the short shit again. Get his guard down so he won't have a reason to suspect anything is up."

"That'll never work," Vince said. "He's gonna suspect something from us trying to be frineds with him again."

"And that'll still work because he'll be too busy trying to figure out what's up with that to focus on what I'm doing," Austin said. "I've got this all figured out, LaSalle. Just do this so everything goes smoothly."

ZZZ

School went by surprisingly uneventfully. He didn't expect anyone except his friends to notice his absence, and that appeared to be the case. Even the teachers didn't take much notice of it, since he only missed one day in the school day. In a way, it was a relief to not have that much attention on him and to be able to slip back into normality without much of a hitch. Keeping a low profile was sort of his whole plan to get through middle school, anyways.

Before he stepped into the lunch room, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw it was Colten, in his usual dark outfit.

"Hey," he said. "Come with me outside?"

TJ nodded, and followed the goth boy outside away from the thick crowd of students headed to the lunch lines.

"You weren't here on Friday," Colten said. "You okay?"

"I guess I am now. I'm not really in the mood to talk about the specifics, but I had to go to a hospital for a few days to get better."

"Ah, okay. Good to hear you're okay," Colten said. "Me and the others were gonna go to this super lowkey hangout this Sunday. You wanna come?"

"I dunno, what do you guys do there?" He asked.

"Nothing much. Owen usually writes. Zoe and Zack read mostly. I have a nice slow smoke or two and listen to the music someone's usually playing in the background," said Colten. "Real relaxing."

"I'll have to get back to you on that. I just got back and my weekend is already getting filled up," said TJ. "It sounds nice, though. I'll let you know in a few days."

"'Kay cool." Colten turned to head back into the school.

"Hold on!"

"What is it?"

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra pack of cigarettes on you, would you? I haven't been able to smoke for a week now, and with everything going on, I really need one."

Colten patted the side of his jacket before reaching inside and tossing him a half empty pack. "You're lucky. I was in a rush this morning and grabbed a new pack and forgot I already had one on me."

"Thanks, I really owe you one," TJ said. He made sure to keep it hidden in a pocket on the inside of his own jacket. Now all he had to do was get down to the lake during his walk with Sasha, then he'll be good.

ZZZ

People, no matter who, were usually one for routine, making it easy for Randall to predict where they would be at a given point in the day. Austin was no exception, but with him being taken off the football team, it was trickier.

Trickier, but not impossible. Austin still liked to hang around the football field after school, steaming with internal rage from being kicked off due to his bullying. His usual crew still stayed with him, his removal seemingly not affecting his role as leader among them.

'Some leader,' Randall scoffed.

Getting close to them to actually listen in on what they were talking about was harder, however. He had the equipment to listen in from a distance, but it's been a while since he's used them and they needed some repairs. That needed to be dealt with before he could hear what was being disgust. Until then, his notepad, pen, and limited ability to read lips would have to due. But that was easier said than done when his target had a habit of keeping his back to him or being at least partically turned away from him unknowingly. Or he hoped it was unknowingly. He would've been more rusty than he thought if he was caught that easily.

ZZZ

They each settled in a booth at Kelso's for an ice cold milkshake. It was nice hanging out after the last few days of being worried. TJ stopped sipping on own drink right before the cold could give him a brain freeze. He'd rather not, but his absence worried his friends, and they wanted an explanation for his disappearance, and he figured they deserved an answer.

"I was in the hospital for three days," he said. "That's why I couldn't call you guys back. It wasn't on my mind to, and I couldn't get to phone, either way."

"The hospital? Why were you in the hospital?"

"Ah, um. . .I don't know how to say this other than t just come out and say it," He said. He paused, taking a deep breath. "I was thinking about killing myself."

"What?"

"You did?"

"Oh my God. . ."

"I didn't do it, obviously! I was just thinking about it! And I told my parents, and they called my therapist, and he told them to take me to the mental hospital, and I had to stay there for three days so they could make sure I was stable. And stuff. I just got back last night."

He felt CJ wrap her arms around him ad pull him into a crushing hug, followed seconds later by the others. Though crushing, the relief reminded him f how desperate he was for physical contact.

"I'm glad you told your parents," said CJ. "I dunno what we'd do without you."

"I just felt overwhelmed that night, and one thought lead to another. . .but while I was in the hospital we did a lot of heavy therapy, Dr. Sage is changing my medication. Did a lot of heavy thinking. All that good stuff," he said. "I didn't mean to worry you about me disappearing all of a sudden."

"We're just glad you okay. Out of all the reasons, I don't think any of us thought that could've been the reason why," said Menlo.

"Thanks, guys. That really means a lot to me," he said. "What's been going on since I've been gone? Did I miss anything?"

"We were thinking about having a day doing all the stuff we did last summer. You know, skateboarding, some paintball, hanging out down the lake, that stuff," said CJ. "To help us all relax."

"But then you couldn't get a hold of me, right. . ." he said. "That sounds like a good idea, actually."

"Great! We can do it this Saturday, the day right after the dance. "

"I forgot all about that dance! I didnt even ask if you wanted to go, CJ. Do you want to go?"

"Personally I don't care either way, but I guess it could be fun," she said. "What about you guys?"

"Randall and I dont have much of a choice. The dance is a school event, and as part of the school newspaper, we have to cover it," said Menlo.

"I might not have a date, but it's a chance for me to show off a dress that I made," said Ashley. "It's really pretty and it's the perfect chance to wear it."

"So we'll all be having fun, it's be great," said CJ. "How about one more round of milkshakes before we head home?"

They all agreed, and another milkshake over a casual conversation about school and other junk, welcoming the change in the tense atmosphere.

ZZZ

The five of them hadn't gathered together in several months, at least. The only exception to that was during parties where the athletes, cheerleaders, and other popular students were the only ones invited, and Vince and Spinelli were in the same space.

It was awkward, the five of them in the same room again now that they were well into middle school, but they supposed it could be worse if a certain sixth person was there. But it was Vince would tracked them each down and asked (told) them to come to room 308 after school, an empty room that was only used to hold spare desks and chairs.

But none of them wanted to be there, not for long. It was only Vince's insistence that pulled them away from normal routine. By the time he got to Gus, for a brief moment, the football player was wondering why exactly he was going this far for Austin, but brushed it off. Thinking about it lead to thinking about what Kevin asked him about a week ago, and he didn't want to think about that.

As soon was the five of them were there, they demanded an answer as to why they were in a dusty unused classroom. Vince explained what Austin had in mind for the dance, just the bare minimum, not the exact prank, and what he wanted the five of them to do to make it all happen.

"You want us to hang out with him?" Spinelli asked, not even bothering to hide her disgust at the idea.

"For like a week. And it's not like we're being asked to actually be friends with the freak, just pretend," he said. "Besides won't it be worth it to get a prank on him for once? It's not like we could get in trouble for it."

They stood in silence, mulling over the idea. By now Spinelli and Gretchen were about over the whole deal that happened in German class, and the drama club had stopped talking about the destruction of their set, props, and costumes, so Mikey stopped caring, too. And Gus. . .Gus just headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Vince asked.

"I'm leaving. I have better things to do with my time," Gus said. He left without another word.

"What about you guys? Are you not up to it?" Vince asked the remaining three.

"Alright. Alright, I'm in. I'll help with this little prank, or whatever," said Spinelli. "Only because I want to see it happen."

Like so many other situations in middle school, all it took was one person agreeing to get the others on board.

ZZ

After school, Sasha was waiting at the door for him, and nearly tackled him as soon as he opened the front door. Once he dropped off his backpack near the staircase, he clipped on her leash and was walking their usual path to the lake within minutes, leaving him with his thoughts.

His weekend was already filled, starting with the dance, then the Saturday with his friends. Plus Sunday with Colten and the other other goth kids. Hanging around doing nothing sounded really good, and he told Colten he was going to take him up on his offer.

When he reached the lake, he expected the lake to be empty as usual, and not for his former friends to be there. Still, he wasn't going to change his routine for them, and unclipped Sasha's leash, letting her go in the bushes, while he sat on the edge of the pier and pulled out a long overdue cigarette.

Today was going so well, too.

"Uh, hey." He let the smoke flow through his nostrils as he turned and saw them standing behind him, with Vince leading the way. "How's it going?"

"What do you want?" He asked, turning back to the lake. "I'm not in the mood to hear you tell me how to act 'normal'."

"Nah, it's nothing like that, man. Were just wondering if you wanted to, hang out," said Vince. "Like old times?"

TJ turned to them again and looked at them incredulously.

"Yeah right. You're up to something, I know it. You think I'm just going to believe that the four of you suddenly want to start being all buddy-buddy with me out of nowhere? Do I look like a fucking idiot?" He asked. By now, Sasha had returned back to his side, standing protectively.

"We really mean it, Teej. We wanna patch things up," said Spinelli. Or should he call her Ashley S., now? "Do you want to be friends again?"

"I'm not interested, and I never will be," he said. He stood, clipping the leash back on Sasha's collar. "Leave me alone."

He left the four of them standing on the pier as he left with Sasha. He couldn't even have a moment alone here.

"That went well," said Spinelli, sarcasm clear in her voice. "And since when did he smoke?"

"I don't know. But it's fine. I didn't say we had to be friends with him. It just has to distract him," said Vince. "We'll just try again tomorrow, okay?"

They all groaned, but there were no protests as they went their separate ways.


	20. Chapter 20

Whatever his old friends were up to, TJ didn't like it.

After that weird moment when they were all down at the lake at the same time, they kept 'accidentally' ending up at the place, with them insisting that they wanted to hanging out like old times. He wasn't going to fall for it, whatever it was. He ignored, pushed passed, and flipped the bird at them, but they kept showing up at that lake.

Until they showed up at his house. Goddammit, the one evening when he was trying to get back into his comic, the one night when he was able to muster up enough concentration to get out a new sheet of paper and start drawing, they had to come over. And it wasn't his parents fault for letting them in. They didn't have any idea exactly how they weren't friend anymore, so he couldn't blame them.

But that didn't mean he had to excited at them being here.

"What. The. FUCK. Do you want?" He nearly snapped at them. He stood in the doorway to his room, with the four of them outside. "Don't you know when to give up?"

"We just wanna hang out," said Vince.

"No." TJ stepped back to close and lock his bedroom door (and put on some music to block them out), but Vince just moved his foot into the doorway, keeping him from closing it.

"C'mon, don't you wanna, you know, be friends again?" he asked. "Like the old times!"

He sighed. Was that their whole plan? Remind him of how close they used to be and bring up how much it hurt to remember how they fell out? That was it. It wasn't enough to add fuel to Austins fire; they had rub salt in the wound, trying to give him the slightest hope that they could ever be friends again.

He wasn't going to fall for it. He couldn't. He was still on shaky ground after his three days at the hospital, and didn't know how well he could take whatever it is they were planning.

The bad thing about it was that he wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe that they realized what they used to have and wanted to repair their friendship. He wanted to believe that so badly. But he wasn't stupid or foolish. He couldn't believe them after everything. He'd just be setting himself up for more heartache

He open and slammed the door on Vince's foot, making him pull it back and allowing him to close his door. He told them one more time to leave him alone before returning to his desk.

ZZZ

With the money she saved from her paper route, CJ headed to the mall with Ashley. If she was going to the dance, they she needed to find a dress, fast. Plus shoes, accessories. . .it as her first dance after all. And what better way to have some quality girl time than shopping? Besides, she needed a second opinion.

"God, there's so much to choose from," CJ said, looking through another rack of dresses. None of them stood out to her. Either too frilly, too decorated, too fancy, not fancy enough. . .

"What color do you want?" Ashley asked. "That's a good place to start."

"Either red or a pale pink," said CJ. "I'll even take purple one. . ."

"How about this one?" Ashley held up a

"Nah, I don't like the pinched part on it," she said. "The top can be fitted, but I'd like the skirt to be loose and swing around."

"Gotcha."

They weren't the only girls from their school out shopping. They recognized a few going back and forth through the issue, some by themselves, some in groups, and a some with their mother on the hunt for the perfect dress.

"You're so lucky, Ashley. You can think of the perfect dress and just make it yourself without worrying about if you can find the closest thing in a store," CJ commented. "Or if they'll have your size or if it'll fit just right."

"True, but it can take months to make one dress. Ordering the right materials and junk. And one mistake can me starting the whole thing over again," said Ashley. "What if it's a red dress with a gold bow?"

"I'd have to see what it looks like to decide."

"How about this?" Ashley help up another dress, a crimson color. The top was fitted, but the skirt was flowy and easy for movement. A skater dress. Around the waist was a golden ribbon tied into a bow on the left front. "I think it's like what you described."

"It is and I love it!" CJ said. She took the dress and looked it over. "I'm getting this one! Now I just need to get some shoes to match."

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about the shoes," Ashley said. "I love shoe shopping!"

"Me too! God, I love the guys but I was so relieved when you joined the group. It's great having a girl friend to gush over girl things with," said CJ.

"It's nice to have someone to talk about something other than gossip with," said Ashley. "C'mon, lets go look at some shoes!"

ZZZ

"Like, Ashley S., where have you been going after cheerleading practice?"

Normally after cheerleading practice, the Ashley's would head over to one of their houses to do their homework and share the gossip they heard through the day. Usually it wasn't over Ashley S. place. Not that she minded. Her parents were still as embarrassing as ever.

For whatever reason Vince needed them to pretend to want to be friends with TJ again, it kept Ashley S. away from the other Ashley's, and that wasn't going to go unnoticed for more than a day or two.

"Yeah like, I saw you walking with a few of those people you used to hang out with," said Ashley Q. "What are you up to?"

"Austin has some prank he's gonna pull on TJ during the dance. We're trying to keep him from suspecting anything from Austin by pretending we want to be his friends again," Spinelli said, somewhat absentmindedly. She had an essay due soon, and was nowhere near done.

"OOO Sandalous!" The other three said in unison.

"Well, come on, Ashley S., tell us all about it," Ashley A. said. She leaned forward, eager to listen. "I want to know all about this."

Dammit. She wasn't supposed to let that out, was she? Well, how much would they have to go on if she told them what Vince told her? It's not like he explained exactly what Austin was going to do, just that he was going to do something. So it's not like they would have much to go on. . .

So what's the harm?

ZZZ

Although Dr. Sage said that he wouldn't feel the effects of his new medication for a week or so, TJ didn't agree. Whatever this pill was called, it was hitting him hard and fast. Considering his condition less than a week ago, that might be a good thing, but this time.

He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling not feeling much at all, but he supposed his neutrality leaned more towards sadness than happiness. He sighed. Yeah he could get to sleep at night easier now, but he couldn't say he felt better than before.

Sasha laid her head in his lap and he absentmindedly petted her. He needed to catch up on his homework. He did a bunch but there was still a lot to get through, but he couldn't make himself get up at the moment. He had time to get it done, though. It's not like he had kickboxing taking up his time anymore, now that he quit. It's not like he would be able to keep up with the others anyways.

He still had his paper route, though, plus the money he's earned from it. maybe he should buy himself something to make himself feel better. IF anything he needed to go through his closet and see if he had anything to wear to the dance. A pair of dress pants and a button up shirt should be good enough, but he wasn't sure he had those. And a hair cut, too. He was getting tired of combing it everyday.

After school tomorrow. That's when he'll get all this done. For now, he was going to stay in bed and try to work up the strength to be a functioning person tomorrow.

ZZZ

Everything was coming up great, in Austin's perspective. LaSalle was doing his job of keeping that short shit's attention off of him, that nerdy dweeb has built what he needed to tilt the trashcan over from the floor of the gym. All he needed to do was get in the gym earlier before the dance and load the trashcan with the nastiest rotting garbage he could find. Easy.

The dance was going to be great. Who needed to worry about some crummy date when he had this to look forward to? This was a lot better. But still, with everyone having a date, it sort of sucked to the only one without one.

Ah, who cared?

ZZZ


End file.
